


Timeless

by aninternetfriend



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern AU to be specific, Oneshot collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 67
Words: 131,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aninternetfriend/pseuds/aninternetfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Modern Setting AU oneshots. </p><p>The first 20 are from a prompt list I found on Tumblr. The next are from three other prompt lists and my weird head. </p><p>The updates follow my muse's state of generosity. Don't blame me, blame it; it's the blamed for all of this, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fake Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai, there. I know I need to focus on "Why Is It So Hard" but I sometimes have a writer's block towards that story, and the way i think it's best to... Unblock the writer's block?... and keep on writing is to write oneshots, so here you go.  
> Btw, how are you all hanging with 20 more episodes to go?  
> Oh, another btw, DAT FRIGGIN HUG JUST

**Chapter 1 – Fake Relationship**

 

“Ruby, I need your help.”

The red lipped looked up, confusion on her face. “That’s unusual. What is it, Ems?”

Emma sat next to her, looking at her briefly before answering. “I...,” she mumbled, picking on her nails. “... Need a date.”

“I’d be honoured,” Ruby mockingly raised her hand to her chest. Emma smacked her arm as she failed at hiding the chuckle that left her lips. “Fine, _elaborate_.”

“So, okay - you know the party Tink’s gonna throw next Saturday?,” Ruby nodded, raising an eyebrow. “She... Invited Neal.”

Her eyes widened suddenly as she let out a gasp. “That bitch!”

“ _Ruby!_ ,” Emma sighed, slightly impatient, for some reason. “Don’t blame her, they’re old friends.”

Ruby huffed. “Anyway. Let me guess, you need a fake date to kill the guy.”

“Precisely.”

She looked away, face crumpled in a thoughtful frown. Emma could hear the engines in her head work, looking through memories and thoughts. Her eyes suddenly brightened and she gasped. “I think I have the _perfect_ guy.”

Even though Emma loved her friend, she had to admit she was frightened. Not only because _Neal_ was going to be there - and it would be the first time they would see each other since he left and never came back, leaving Emma alone and, well, pregnant -, but also because she was sure she didn’t know said guy, and was scared of how he was: if he was nice or an ass, sweet and charming or flirty. There was no way she could know, so the only thing she could do was waiting until Saturday.

 

* * *

 

 

_Okay, this is... good enough._

Emma stared at herself on the mirror, proud of the look that took two hours to be made. She didn’t regret, though – she _needed_ to look damn good. Her blond locks were falling loose over her shoulders in light waves. The make-up was quite hard to do, since Ruby was getting ready at her own house and Emma was supposed to _grow up and do this alone_. In the end, it turned out better than she expected – thank God. Her dress was one she found deep inside her wardrobe, not too tight to _expose_ her body, but enough to show it. It had a similar shade of green as her eyes’ and the skirt ended right above her knees. She didn’t even remember when she bought that dress, but she definitely liked it.

Her phone suddenly started buzzing and she ran top pick it up. “Hello?”

“ _Hey, Ems!_ ,” Ruby’s voice sounded excited. “ _So, I’m coming over in about ten minutes with your new boyfriend, okay?_ ” Each time she thought about it, it seemed weirder.

“Um, okay.”

“ _Okay, bye!_ ,” and the line went silent.

After tossing her phone and other stuff inside her handbag, she looked around for her heels. _Ugh, heels._

As she promised, Emma’s doorbell rang ten minutes later, and she opened it, revealing a dolled up Ruby and _holy crap._

The man standing next to her friend was _impossible._ A few inches taller than her, wearing a dark-blue button-up shirt under a leather jacket and black jeans. Of course she had first looked at his body – she was only human, after all – and _of course_ it was because she was slightly shorter than him. But then she looked up and had to gather all her strength to not gape at the sight.

His eyes – _his eyes._ She couldn’t figure out the tone of blue in them, so she decided to stick with the _hella blue_ eyes. He had a few days old stubble, successfully making it look ridiculously attractive. And _yes_ , he managed to make bed hair not look relaxed, but sexy.

_How?_

_“_ Emma, I’d like you to meet Killian Jones,” Ruby started with the introductions. “Killian, this is Emma Swan, your girlfriend for the night.”

Emma never thought she’d have to make her best to focus on forming words. “Oh, um... Hi.”

Only then, she realised he had been staring at her, and that sent that small alarm on the back of her head off. She automatically put her arms around her middle, immediately recognising it as a self-protection move.

He seemed to snap out of his own daze after Ruby looked at him with a wolfish grin. His lips suddenly quirked up in a cocky smirk. “Hello, love.”

 _An accent_ , she thought, frustrated. _Just great._

“Well,” Ruby said. “I’ll stop at Victor’s first, you two can go ahead.”

Both nodded in agreement and Emma ran back inside to fetch her purse, closing the door after she was out. She could see Ruby’s silhouette in the end of the street as she turned around the corner and focused on the man that was opening a taxi’s door for her.

“Gentleman?”

He smirked at her again. “I’m _always_ a gentleman.”

She got in and he followed her, communicating the address to the driver and then it hit her. _She was_ really _going_.

They didn’t talk during the drive to Tink’s party, which left them in an awkward silence. A part of Emma was screaming that this was a bad idea she shouldn’t have accepted it. She didn’t even know the guy, now she was going to pretend to seriously date him.

But another part of her kept whispering that this actually felt _right._ She wasn’t tense or nervous – well, she was _kinda_ nervous, but that had nothing to do with Killian -, she was just feeling a bit awkward. She was actually too comfortable around him, not being too self conscious about his thigh brushing against her in the bumping of the car every now and then or the way his eyes darted towards her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

The car finally stopped, and Emma’s heart raced. She was doing it; it was _way_ too late to go back now. He got out and held the door open for her. She straightened the front of her dress once she was out and looked at him expectantly, not knowing what to do next. He looked as lost as her for a second, before his face formed a grin and he gestured her to go in. She started to walk, constantly reminding herself to relax and try to look comfortable with him. _Not that difficult, honestly_ , a part of her brain retorted.

As she walked, she could feel his heat behind her and almost jumped when his hand touched the small of her back. She opened the door to the bar and felt his arm go around her waist. Heart racing once again, she found herself leaning a slight bit onto him, and she was glad she was _supposed_ to act as though they were in a _real relationship_. She looked around, searching for known faces, when she spotted Mary Margaret’s. A sight of relief left her before she could repress it and she walked towards her best friend, Killian doing his best to keep up.

Mary Margaret’s face lightened up when she saw Emma, but a frown replaced it when she noticed the attractive and strange man with his arm around her friend’s waist. She opened her mouth to question, but Emma lifted a hand. “I’ll tell you everything in five minutes. Now, where’s Tink?”

 

* * *

 

“Talk,” Mary Margaret’s voice had the ‘mother’ tone Emma didn’t appreciate much.

She filled her friend in, not letting any details out, including her fears towards having to face Neal tonight. Once she was finished, Mary Margaret had an unreadable expression on her face.

“Okay.”

Emma frowned. “Okay?” She did _not_ expect that. She expected a furious pep talk about responsibility and ‘ _you shouldn’t have agreed on this, Emma.’_

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret pushed off the bar where she was leaning on. “He looks like a nice guy.”

The frown deepened in the blonde’s face. _Okay…_

“Emma?,” the familiar yet terrifying voice she was dreading to hear for years spoke right behind her.

She froze, and watched as the pixie haired brunette’s eyes widened as she made up a crappy excuse to leave them alone. Emma followed her with her eyes and saw her stop next to a dark-haired person. When he turned, she realised it was Killian and understood the way his eyes sent a message. ‘ _On my way.’_

She turned around and faced the chocolate eyes she once loved with such tenderness. “Neal.”

He gave her an awkward smile, scratching the bridge of his nose – something she remembered he did when he was anxious or nervous. “How’ve you been?”

_Seriously?_

“I’ve been great!,” she faked a smile. "How about you?"

"Eh, I've been better, honestly." Good. "Like when we were together and stuff."

_Hell no._

She was about to reply, not even thinking of how to do it, when a voice that sounded like an angel's spoke.

"There you are, love."

She held back a sigh of relief. _Thank God_.

Killian approached and snaked his arm around her waist, kissing her temple. She didn't even flinch. A little smile escaped through her lips, and it wasn't even intentional. _What...?_

If a word could describe Neal's expression, it had to be _bafflement_.

She looked up at Killian and he was looking down at her, a big smile on his face. He then looked up at the frozen human standing in front of them, stretching out his free hand. "Killian Jones."

Neal's face crumpled into a grimace as he took his hand, shaking it strongly. _Men_... "Neal Cassidy."

"It's nice to meet you, Neal," Killian's smile succeeded at pissing him off even more. She almost laughed at scene, but she controlled herself.

"Yeah," was Neal's response.

"So, did you two just meet or are old friends like Mary Margaret is to Emma?"

She didn't know how exactly he knew that, because she never told him, but she kept quiet, watching the moment without missing a detail.

"We... We used to date, a few years ago."

Was that... Was that a flick of hate she saw in his eyes? His hand surely tightened on her hip, but he kept his perfect smile on. " _Ooh_ , competition, then?"

She faked a giggle and smacked him on the chest. A part of laugh was real, due the tone of disgust printed on Neal's face. _Priceless_.

"Okay, Jones, let's go, David said he needs to talk to you." That was a lie, but who cares?

He nodded - even though he has no idea of who she was talking about - and turned to Neal. "See you around, Neal."

"Yeah," was all Neal could reply again, watching them go towards the bar and sitting on the stools.

Emma could still feel his gaze on her after some minutes of small talk about their jobs and tastes and fake yearning looks and doey eyes exchanged with Killian.

"So, that was the bastard?," he said after ordering two beers.

"Yup," she answered, popping the 'p'. "Ruby told you?"

"Every detail she knew. But, even if she hadn't, Swan, I would've recognised him anyway."

"How so?"

"You're sort of an open book."

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Am I?"

Whoa, was she flirting? With a sex god who was pretending to be her boyfriend _? And it's still the second beer?_

"Aye," he said. He looked right into her eyes and just... Stared. He then tilted his head slightly to the side. "Just... Who are you, Swan?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Okay, that was definitely flirting. But she had a boyfriend for the night, so she simply ignored the voices squealing that it was a mistake inside her head.

"Perhaps I would," he wasn't smiling anymore.

Only then she realised how close they were, faces a few inches apart. Was there some sort of natural magnetism between them? How could she not notice they were getting closer at each word they spoke? She couldn't stop her eyes from darting to his lips, and, apparently, neither could he. His look went back up, but not to her eyes. He was looking at something over her shoulder, without moving his head. He suddenly smirked.

"He's _glaring_ ," he whispered, amusement clear in his voice.

She chuckled. "He better be," she said on the same tone.

All of a sudden, her whole mind just went _'oh, what the hell'_ and she just went for it. She felt herself leaning forward, and he met her halfway. And she certainly did not expect his lips to be so soft. He hesitated at first, but none of them could ignore the jolt of electricity the touch of their lips sent through their spines. She leaned even further, hand coming up to caress his stubbled jaw, as his went to her waist, slowly sliding it up over the back of her ribs to place it just below her shoulder blade, a.k.a. the uncovered part of her dress, pulling her closer. She hoped he didn't notice the shiver that ran through her body, but, judging by the grin she felt against her mouth, he did.

The kiss wasn't hungry or desperate. It was more like soft and tender. Anyone who looked at them now would see a grownup couple regressing to the time when they were high school sweethearts, the lightness and warmness of the kiss reflecting the 'old days'. No one would even believe they just met _that day_.

She opened one of her lids to see a stomping Neal storming out of the bar, the birthday girl dodging the people in front of her to follow him. She smiled into the kiss and broke it, slightly breathless. "He's gone," she whispered, resting her forehead against his, her hands still cupping his cheeks.

"I know," is all he replied before he was kissing her again, just like a moment ago.

A part of her kept reminding her the whole night to find Ruby and thank her for the rather brilliant idea.

If someone told Emma a week ago she would be dating Captain Innuendo, the flirt yet insufferable smug bastard and professional at the art of putting on some puppy eyes within two weeks after they were introduced by one of her closest friends, she would have punched them in the face for wasting her time by saying such stupid things.


	2. Drawing

**Chapter 2 – Drawing**

"What are you doing?," she asked, coming to sit beside him.

Killian looked up from the paper and shrugged. "Just drawing a bit."

She noticed the way he was hiding most of it under his hand, so she snatched it away to look at the drawing and _wow_.

" _Whoa_ ," was all she could say.

It was _beautiful_. It was a drawing of _her_ , Emma. But there were so many details and it was so perfectly done. She'd been watching him for about 5 minutes and he looked really relaxed, like that was nothing to him.

She looked at him, wide eyed, nearly chuckling at the redness installing on his cheeks. _Killian Jones, blushing?!_

"That is...," she tried to think of the proper word. " _Wow_."

He scratched behind his ear - he did that when he was nervous - and gave her a shy smile. "Thanks."

"Killian, why don't you do arts? Why the _hell_ did you choose Geography?!"

He shrugged again. "Because art is more of a hobby to me. I wouldn't like to make it an obligation; it would take the magic from it."

She had to hold herself to not throw her arms around his neck and never let go. She's always liked him, even though it may not seem to everyone around them, because all they did was argue - except for the temporary truce moments like this - and she never told anyone about it because, how could _Killian Jones_ , college hottie, like her the way she liked him? Yes, they were friends, but that was because they have been since before he started to be labeled by the girls as _'hottie'_ , from the time he was still a skinny boy with too blue eyes. Now, he was the human definition of _'hottie'_ , and she hated how she was sure he only saw her as an old friend.

"It's really beautiful," she said, pointing at the paper. "How do you do it? The farther I go is stick people."

He laughs at that and she feels a warm wave sweep through her body, like it always happened when she made him laugh. She didn't even know why they argued, but she was absolutely sure the reasons were always stupid and pointless, like, _'it's red!' 'no, it's pink!_ ' or _'how can you possibly think pancakes are better than waffles, what is your problem?!'_. "If you practice, and practice hard, you can go farther than you've even gone."

She stood there, mouth agape, because he was _too perfect_. He was _extremely_ handsome, had his innuendo side, but he could be sweet - when he wanted - and he was just amazing.

"You can keep it if you want."

"Keep what?," she asked, quickly snapping out of her adoration moment.

"The drawing. It's not exactly done, but it's good like that."

She looked at him in disbelief, because he was _giving_ her a perfectly made drawing of her like it was nothing. "I can't, it's too perfect."

He laughed again, and she smiled at the sound. "Just keep it, Swan, it's okay."

"Really?"

He solemnly nodded; looking at her with what Mary Margaret would call _doey eyes_? Why was he looking at her like that?

Before she could stop herself, she had her arms around his neck and her face burrowed on his neck. He hesitated before wrapping his own arms around her middle. Her heart was racing, her breath hitched the moment his chest touched hers and she couldn't breathe but she felt so _alive_ at the same time and she was just _confused_.

"Thank you," she managed to let out against his neck.

"You're welcome, love," he mumbled. She always shivered when he called her 'love', even if he called every single woman he passed by that.

They were still clung to each other, until Emma realised what she was doing and set him free. She loosened her arms around him, but he tightened his grip around her body for a second before letting go too. She backed away a step and looked up at him, surprised to see he was smiling - not smirking, not grinning, but genuinely _smiling_ \- and mirrored his face at him.

She was going to say goodbye when he interrupted her. "Meet me here at five for coffee," he blurted out.

"What?"

"Coffee. Here. At five. Meet me by that bench over there," he said, pointing at a wooden bench a few meters away.

She smiled brightly before she answered. "Yeah, okay." And she walked away before she could _ruin_ the already perfect day.

No need to say she waited anxiously all day, because _what if he didn't like her the way she did._  A part of her said it was rubbish; _look at how he hugged you today, Emma._ In the end, those theories were proved right, and, well, let's just say she could change her Facebook status now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek


	3. Support Group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. Tonight's episode killed me, too many feels for a two minutes scene, and then Tumblr exploded and I exploded and the Outlaw Queen feels attacked and then more CS feels and ugh, I hate this show.

**Chapter 3 - Support Group**

 

"Alright, everybody," Archie's soft voice spoke up. "Whoever's feeling good enough to do it first, stand up, tell us your name and how long you've been here."

Killian rolled his eyes. He's been here for two bloody weeks, he knows everyone in the circle.

He scanned the small crowd like he did every time they were dared to first introduce and something caught his eyes. A blonde haired he'd never seen before. She wore her curly hair in a high ponytail and a dress that brought out her eyes.

His look was caught again, but now by the short man standing up. "My name's Leroy," he growled, his voice impatient. He waited and chuckled after a moment. "You still don't do the 'hi, Leroy' thing, right?" As usual, a high number of eyes were rolled and groans were heard all over the room. "Okay, fine, fine. My name's Leroy and I've been here for three weeks."

Archie nodded and the man sat back down. The blonde woman seemed to curl even more in her own personal bubble.

Robin stood up after, taking a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Robin Locksley and I've been here for a month and a half."

Killian's eyes darted to the woman with a jet-black hair in the other side of the room. He always knew Regina had something for him. And he didn't really doubt Robin felt something alike.

He looked around after he sat down, and sighed. He stood up, glancing at each one's face. "My name is Killian and I've been here for two weeks," he spoke, loud and clear, and the new girl looked up, frowning.

And so it went, each of the members of that damned support group stood up and introduced themselves.

His eyes fixed in the blondie when she finally stood up. "My name is...," she stopped and hesitated. "Well, you can call me Tink. That's how everyone calls me. And today's my first day."

"Ah, welcome, then, Tink," Archie said with a smile. She replied with one of her own and sat back down, looking immensely relieved.

The other five people left said their names, before she got up. Emma Swan. He's always been sort of fascinated by her. She was witty, smart and, most of all, beautiful. Her glowing blonde hair fell over her shoulders. He noticed how she passed her hands throw it when she was nervous or uncomfortable. It was adorable at the most. But she had quite a sad story.

She said she didn't really like to share her life, but her best friend made her enter that support group to help her get over her ex-boyfriend but still great friend, Neal,'s death. She said he was killed by some people who wanted revenge from the times he used to rob people. That was 5 months ago. She had been there for almost half a year, and hadn't been 'cured'.

Killian himself was also forced into this by Victor, to try and forget Milah and Liam's death in that terrible car crash. He wasn't there, he stood behind because he was drunk and it was all his fault, because if he hadn't had a discussion with Milah, Liam wouldn't have suggested to take her home and they wouldn't have been hit by that damn truck. He spent nearly three weeks drowning in alcohol, drinking to forget. Until Vic came and suggested that bloody thing.

He let that all out in the second day of support group, including his unsatisfaction towads it being useless.

But anyways. Emma got up, and his eyes followed her every move; he just couldn't help it. "I'm Emma Swan and I've been here for five months."

Tink's eyes widened - as Killian hoped they would; his own did the same when she first introduced herself - and her face crumpled into a thoughtful expression, probably trying to figure out why had Emma been there for so long. She would have to wait half an hour to have a response.

~oOo~

"Afternoon, Swan."

Emma turned around, glittery eyes from the confession she made earlier, about not having stopped loving Neal and probably never will, even if he was gone. "Hey, Jones."

He tilted his head, a worried expression on his face. "You okay."

She nodded. She was, wasn't she? It had been just a speech about something she had realised the night before while going through some old stuff from the deep corners of her room.

He stepped closer, eyes searching hers. "Sure?" She nodded again, afraid she would burst into tears again if she started talking. He waited before speaking once again. "Need a hug?"

She snorted, because even if he was annoying sometimes, he could make her smile.

His face was still serious, though. "I'm serious."

Was he? Killian Jones, eternal smirk absent from his face, was worrying about her. Hm.

She just looked at him, looking for any traces of lies or jokes, because the thing she needed the less was someone laughing at her now. He lie detector kept silent. She frowned.

"Why?," she asked, voice slightly hoarse.

"Because I see you're sad and falling apart. I thought you might need someone to just, you know, stand you while you cry even more." He wasn't even flirting, that was really unusual.

Suddenly, something snapped inside of her. A pang in her chest, to be specific. She felt the sob coming up her throat and her body moved at its own accord. When she noticed, she was stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his middle.

He hesitated, surprised she was actually hugging him, and slowly put his arms around her shoulders. The sob finally left her mouth and, when she saw, her body was shaking with hiccups and cries and he was just there, a soothing hand drawing invisible patterns on her shoulders and back

Luckily, they were at a far corner of the room, and only two people shot confused and pitied glances at them.

She burrowed her face further into his neck everytime a sob hit her, and he never complained. He was just there for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought Tink was Emma at first. *evil laugh*


	4. Coffee Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayokayokay, the feels were too much, I can't stop writing.

**Coffee Shop**

 

Emma had had a shitty week.

Not only because she got a new case - and it's worth mentioning it was being hell to track down the bastard -, also not because Neal had the brilliant idea to bump into her three days before, making her eyes water and her feet to move at their own accord and run away; but because everything was being thrown at her at the same time.

In the rare free hours she had, she liked to stroll around, trying to clear her mind or just calm it down a bit. On that day, the stroll took her to a place she didn't even know existed.

She looked up at the sign. 'The Jolly Roger'. The entrance looked like a bar, the name screamed the word 'bar' and the surroundings implied it was a bar. But, when she entered, she was fairly surprised to see a warm and cozy coffee shop.

The walls were covered with brown bricks and the floor was made of dark wood planks. It was all in that dark wood tone, actually; but the big windows let the daylight in and it was a beautiful combination. The environment was decorated with pirate and boats and ship related things, like a small sail in one of the walls, the pirate hats here and there, the ropes that crossed the ceiling and other things. It was oddly pretty.

She looked around at the people. All sorts of people were sitting at the tables, some at the stools in front of the bar, and others even standing. There were businessmen, college kids, teenagers, old ladies, middle aged men... Literally all sorts.

It was a luck the place was big; she didn't know how that many people would fit if it were a tiny bit smaller.

She directed herself to the line in front of the counter, eyeing the list of different kinds of tea and coffee and aha. Hot chocolate.

After nearly five minutes, she got to the counter, only to meet the most handsome worker she's ever seen. He looked quite alright, with his mop of raven hair on the top of his head, the dark stubble and the stunning blue eyes. From what she could see, he was wearing a red polo shirt with a little symbol - a pirate ship, probably - right above this heart.

She finally looked up, and told herself to wake up, there were people behind her.

"Yes, hi," she blinked. "Um, I'd like a hot cocoa with whipped cream. Oh, and extra cinnamon."

"Hot cocoa?"

"Yeah, it's on the menu," she frowned. "Isn't it?"

He smirked, looking at her with curiosity. "It's a coffee place, love, pardon me for the confusion. It's just... It's not really often you see people asking anything else than coffee."

She let out a short laugh. "Well, coffee makes me nervous."

"So hot cocoa with whipped cream and extra cinnamon it is!," he beamed, turning around and scribbling something in a notepad and handing her the paper. "This is your number. Come pick it up when it appears on that screen there," he pointed at it across the room.

She nodded and turned back to him. "Thank you." And walked towards one of the stools.

A minute or so later, she felt someone stop in front of her in the other side of the bar and looked up, surprised to see Blue Eyes. "Hi, there, love."

She looked at the little screen, confused, her brow furrowing when she didn't see her number in it.

"Oh, no, it's not ready yet," he said, reading her thoughts. "I just came to talk."

"Talk?," she asked, raising an eyebrow. "First, aren't you working? And second, why?"

He shrugged. "You seemed alone. And I'm on my break," he smirked at her. She couldn't stop the corners of her mouth to curl up. This was an odd situation. He held out his had. "Killian Jones, at your service. Quite literally, actually."

She stared at his hand for a second. It might seem weird, but she wasn't having the weird sensations or the bad feeling about him like she had with... Well, every other men she's ever known. He seemed somewhat... Familiar? Nice? She didn't really know, but it was enough to make her shake his hand. "Emma Swan."

"Well, Miss Swan, what brings you to this little corner of the city?," he asked, resting his elbows on the bar.

"Just wandering around, enjoying the few free hours I have from work," she shrugged.

"And what do you work with?," he seemed genuinely interested, something that made that good feeling about him spread inside her.

She smiled and looked down at her hands, before looking up at him again. "Let's just say I catch bad guys."

He chuckled. "What, a bail bondsperson?," he joked, but the smile dropped right after he saw the serious face she had on. "Really?!"

It was her turn to laugh. "Yeah. It's quite interesting."

"And how did a pretty lass like you end up in a, well, hardass job like that?"

"I got into trouble early, learned my lesson and developed a hatred towards idiots and bastards."

He pouted, impressed. "Tough lass, aren't you?" She didn't answer, but looked up right on time to see her number on the screen, suddenly getting up and walking to the counter. She took her cocoa, but something stopped her from leaving. She glanced at the counter, catching his bright blue eyes staring at her. Maybe that was it.

So she came back.

She sat back on the stool and continued the conversation, which ended later than she expected, when she looked around and saw half of the people who were previously filling the coffee shop were gone. She looked at the windows and realised it was getting dark. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was 6pm. She had left her house at 2, and probably got there half an hour later.

"It's late."

"It's six in the afternoon, love," he said, counting the dollar bills from the box.

She chuckled. "I know, I meant it's later than I expected it to be."

"Why, because I'm a great company who knows how to keep up in a good conversation and you didn't expect that at all?," the smug bastard smirked at her.

She genuinely laughed at that. He was so cocky. "No, because it's rare for me to stay in the same place after that long."

"That does not discard my latest option, darling."

She sighed. Time flew by; she didn't even see it passing. It was true, though. Killian was a great company. He replied her comments with the same wit, said everything where it's supposed to be said, didn't disrespect her like most of the men do and didn't instantly try to get her into bed - though his innuendos were quite present.

"Well," he sauntered towards her, around the bar, and sat on the empty stool beside her. "My shift's done, and I was thinking we could grab a coffee--," she scoffed at the intended irony. "--or a drink. I know a nice bar just around the corner."

"Are you asking me out, Jones?," she raised an eyebrow, incapable of hiding the grin that was forming on her lips.

"I am."

She thought about it. Should she trust him? That had been quite hard after Neal, but she had the constant feeling that she actually could trust him and that he wouldn't leave her and hurt her like the previous bastard did.

So she did. She trusted him.


	5. Neighbours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, one more. It's short, but don't question the muse.

**Neighbours**

 

He had noticed her the moment he moved in. And every moment after that. Was it when they were taking out the trash, or catching the mail, or just passing by on the hallway, he knew there was some kind of attraction he felt towards her.

So he, being the confident yet not ashamed person he was, gathered the enough courage to go to the door in front of his and knock.

He waited one, two, ten seconds before he heard steps inside. The door opened and she appeared in front of him. He knew she was pretty, but he hadn't seen her this up close until now. He could see the light freckles on her nose and cheeks, the specs of gold in her green orbs and the dip in her chin. She was beautiful and wow.

"Hello, love," his smirking self got over.

"Um, hi," she said, wryly.

"Name's Killian Jones, I live across the hall," he pointed at the door behind him with his thumb.

She raised an eyebrow. "And...?"

He shrugged. "And nothing, you're the new neighbour, I thought it would be good if we finally met each other," he said simply. "Oh, by the way, thank you for moving in, Mr and Mrs Tap Dancing were driving me insane."

The warm feeling that spread across his chest when a smile crept up to her face was unexpected. "You're welcome, Mr Jones."

"Ah, Killian, please."

"Right," she leaned against the doorframe and just looked at him, like she could see through his skin and stare into his soul. He felt vulnerable; nothing to complain, though. It wasn't every day he had a gorgeous blonde looking at him like she could read him. It felt different - an oddly good different.

He shifted in his feet. "Should I go for the cliche and ask for sugar or should I ask you out right away?"

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "What?," she snapped. "Where did that come from?"

"Well, you are quite a lass, love, and you seem tough. I'm sure a drink wouldn't kill you."

"Unless, of course, you were a murderer who keeps parts of corpses in your fridge."

He scoffed. "Fridge?," he mocked offence. "Please, I own a freezer."

She laughed at that, making him smile even more. Why did she make him smile that easily? He didn't know, but he liked it.

"That was terrible. And the only way I would go out with you is if I gained something in return."

He stepped forward. "Like what?"

He felt her breathing hitch and saw the faint blush creep to her cheeks. "Like...," she breathed. "An organ if I someday need a transplant."

"Absolutely," he said, smirk broadening as she gave a small step back. "See you later, then, darling." And tuned around, to his own apartment.

"Hey," the sound of her voice stopped him, and he looked over his shoulder, hand in the doorknob, an eyebrow raised in question. She was smiling, a small grin formed on her lips. It wasn't much, but it definitely was something. "The name's Emma. Emma Swan." And with that, she turned around and closed the door.

He chuckled softly and got in, thinking how well that first meeting went and how he hoped it wasn't all in vain. Imagine having to pass by her after a fail attempt of a date? No, thank you, he was okay.

And, as he hoped, it went wonderfully well.


	6. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KAAAY, this one gave me feels. I guess it's good for the night.

**Family**

 

She was nervous. The plane hadn't even set off yet and she was at her edge.

She was going to see her parents. The ones she finally found after so many years if searching. They lived in a small town in Maine, and she impulsively bought two plane tickets, not wanting to wait a single minute before she could finally meet them.

But now, she was wondering. Why had they left her? Why in the middle of a highway? Why hadn't they tried to make contact after all these long years? She had been alone all her life, surrounded by all kinds of abandon: being abandoned as a baby, being abandoned by her foster family when she was three and many after that, being abandoned by her only friend in the foster system when he had finally been adopted, being abandoned by Neal, abandoning her own son, abandoned by Walsh... She was always being hurt by someone somehow.

That is until she met Killian.

She looked at the silver band around her finger. Quite a journey.

She had been in a case, she had bumped into him and had thought he was the bail skipper, had ran after him for more than five blocks, had actually tackled him, had discovered he had only been running because he thought she had been an ex he had never called the next morning, and she remembered how she had felt the instant magnetism they had. She had thought it was something bad at first, always suspicious, always doubting him, always ignoring his desperate attempts of making her trust him. Until Walsh screwed her up, and he was the only one there for her. She had clung to him, confided him everything she could and just like that, something snapped inside her.

That's how she met the love of her life.

She felt his hand over her own and looked up into those shining blue eyes she loved so much. "You okay?," he asked softly. She smiles. He had always read her like an open book.

She nodded, interlacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand. "As long as you're here, I'll always be okay."

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her temple. She closed her eyes at the soothing gesture and cherished the warm that spread across her chest. "It'll be alright, love. They're going to love you."

"How can you be so sure?," she was pouting now.

"Because there is absolutely no way anyone wouldn't love you," he replied. She rested her head against his shoulder. "I mean, have you looked at yourself?"

She snorted and smacked him in the chest. "Shut up, you were going so well."

He chuckled and kissed her head again, resting his own against hers. "I am sure they will love you, because I do and nothing would ever change that."

"You just get super sappy sometimes, you know?"

"You're the one who does that to me, love, you cannot complain."

 

* * *

 

"But what if I'm not what they expected me to be?"

"Emma, darling, I am telling you, they will appreciate every bit of you," he put his arm around her as they walked towards the entry of the building. She had been unsure about this since, well, since she found them.

She sighed and groaned at the sight of stairs. "Really? Not only the town is deserted, but elevators don't exist?"

"Hush, now, love. It's a small town, cope with it."

She sighed once more and climbed up the stairs. After one, two, three floors, they finally reached it. Stopping in front of the door, she looked up at him, fear clear in her eyes. He nodded reassuringly and grabbed her hand. He knew she needed support in this. The small smile she gave him in return was enough to confirm it. She then raised an hesitant hand to the door and knocked.

They waited, every second passing making her grip in his hand tighten. Finally, the door opens to reveal a 60 year old man, with blue eyes and greying blonde hair. He had Emma's nose.

She smiled nervously. "Hi, my name's--"

"Emma," the man breathed.

"David, who is it?," a female voice came from inside. The man didn't even move. A short form came to stand beside him and Killian had to hold down a gasp at the similarity in the old woman's look. Apart from the grey pixie style hair, she had Emma's eyes, chin, cheekbones... Everything. The woman gasped and looked at Emma. "Is that..." And she trailed off. Killian could say, she was clearly Emma's--

"Mom?," he heard Emma's weak voice next to him, and squeezed her hand a bit more.

They moved in synch, the old couple stepping forward, eager to feel their long lost daughter in their arms again; and Emma doing the same, finally able to feel her parents against her for the first time.

Killian stepped back and felt weird, like he was interrupting a private scene. It was quite beautiful too: they were clung to each other, and he could hear whispered 'I can't believe you found us' and 'I missed you so much' in the middle of the tangle of limbs and clothes.

When they finally broke apart, all of them had tears streaming down their faces. They simply looked at each other, relieved smiles plastered on their faces, and Killian couldn't stop his own. It was a special moment, even for him.

That seemed to bring Emma back to the real world and she wiped the years from her cheeks, looking up at him with a beautiful smile in her lips. "Killian," she started. "These are Mary Margaret and David Nolan...," she stopped, appreciating the moment. "... my parents."

He looked up at the ready couple, only to be welcomed by warm eyes and full hearted smiles. He genuinely smiled back.

"Mom, Dad, this is Killian Jones," she looked up at him again, proudly. "My fiancée."

David's eyebrows furrowed. "Fiancée?," he then looked at his wife. "Did we miss it all?," he whispered at her, and Killian could hear the clear pain in the words.

"If it helps, mate," he said out loud, getting their attention. "The wedding's in four months. She'll need someone to walk her down the aisle," he smiled again, doing his best to soothe the mood.

David's lips curled up again and he chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it slightly. He really hoped it's the reassuring squeeze, and not the 'if-you-hurt-my-daughter-I'll-run-you-over-with-my-truck' squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so many feels during this, mainly Charming Family and Daddy Charming ones, aka two of the worst kinds of feels.


	7. High School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai there. 
> 
> Idek what happened here. It didn't turn out the way I thought it would. If you're sensible about Ems or Killy's abandonments, they watch outcome cause here come dem feels.

**High School (9)**

 

Killian Jones was a fairly normal person. Well, maybe not, but compared to the other freaks he called colleagues, he was impressively okay. He flirted and wooed, and didn't harassed and obliged the girls to do something with him. He recognised he had his good looks, something that's quite an advantage if you're in high school: your looks define your person. Killian would always be considered charming, heart-breaker and popular, even if only one of those were true, he believed.

Emma Swan was considered a freak. She was sassy, witty, pretty - it's worth mentioning she didn't have a boyfriend because most boys were scared she would just punch her in the face if they ever tried something - and, most of all, insufferable.

Killian had tried to approach, even if it was the 'be my chemistry partner pretty pretty please' deal. She was just too difficult.

And that fact was what most infuriated him: he felt the need to get close to her. Friend, boyfriend, partner, anything. He had tried everything and nothing'd worked.

Until the day she got to school with dark circles under her eyes and slumped shoulders. She didn't snap at anyone, didn't make eye contact, just kept her head down and walked through the day. That was what worried Killian: it was the third period and she would've had caused some fight already. What happened?

He decided to take a chance during lunch, after seeing her moving her food around the plate, not eating, alone in a far table.

Maybe she was like a prey. Maybe he had to try his best to not scare her.

He approached her table and, without saying a word, sat beside her. She slowly raised her head from the distant look she was giving her rice to look at him. He just grabbed his fork and ate; he didn't even look at her. She raised an eyebrow, and lowered her head again. That worried Killian even more; he was silently praying for her to snap at him, kick him out, call him names, anything. But she didn't. So he looked at her.

She looked miserable. A constant frown over her face, the dark circles making her look paler. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and looked like it hadn't been brushed that morning. Her clothes were less cared than normally: instead of a t-shirt or a tank top under her red jacket, she was wearing a too big dark red hoodie. Her skinny jeans traded for larger ones, and sneakers instead of boots. What had happened?

"You alright?," he finally spoke up, making her head raise a bit, but she was still staring at the food.

"Just fine," she said weakly. Her voice was slightly hoarse, probably from the many hours she'd been quiet. Or maybe because of crying. He couldn't know.

"Really?"

She looked up then, emerald orbs meeting his blue ones. "I said in fine, Jones," she finally snapped, and that made him relax a bit. It was still a light snap, but it definitely was her old self. "What are you doing here?"

Yeah, what was he doing there? Why did he care so much for someone he rarely spoke to? Was it her fierceness? Was it her looks? He started asking himself.

But for now, he didn't know. So he just shrugged. "You look like crap. I want to know what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." He scoffed and she rolled her eyes. Why didn't she just admit she was feeling bad and told him the problem? Was she really that stubborn? "Why do you even care?"

"I don't know, I just do," he sighed.

She looked impressed. Like she was surprised someone even care about her enough to wonder what was wrong. But would she trust him? She sighed, rubbing her temple. She was probably too tired to worry. "My foster family sent me back," she finally spat out. "Again," she added, bitterness clear in her voice.

He frowned. She was an orphan?

She scoffed. "Please, don't feel bad about it. The last thing I need right now is your pity."

"I don't... Pity you," he said softly, doing everything he could to ease the tension. "I'm just... Surprised."

She raised an eyebrow again. "Surprised?"

"I just... didn't know you were an orphan."

Something flashed in her eyes. Was it sorrow? Was it loneliness? It definitely felt like a pang in his chest.

"Is that even relevant?," she snapped, her eyes turning harsh. She was probably thinking he would start making fun of her. He would never do that.

He looked down at his own meal. Should be trust her? It might seem crazy, but he felt an easiness and familiarity towards her he had never felt before, besides from Liam. But Liam was, well, gone and it hurt to think about it. He decided to take the 'takes one to know one' saying in account and sighed again. "I don't know. It's just that I'm one two."

He saw her eyes widen a bit com the corner of his eye. "You're an orphan too?"

He nodded. This was taking too long. "I'm all alone, Swan, except for my uncle," he said. "Well, sort of uncle. He was just a friend of my dad's. The drunken bastard ran away when I was twelve."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I was better off without him. It had been just me and my older brother for three years. Until Liam died," he added, making her mouth fall agape. "Since then, it's just me and Uncle."

They stood in silence for a while, just pondering each other's situation.

"Does anything I'll say help at all?," she asked almost shyly.

She laughed a humourless laugh, looking up at her. "Probably not."

And she just gazed back. They stood, what, two minutes?, just staring at each other's eyes.

Do you know that thing that only happens in movies, where you look into someone's eyes and you can see every sentiment being felt behind them? How you literally read the person?

That had just happened.

Killian saw traces of abandonment, hurt, sadness and doubts. But he also saw the fire, fierceness and strength she usually showed. He saw a tingle of happiness inside them, like it was something extremely rare in her life. It probably was.

He didn't doubt she was doing the same thing to him, seeing what was left behind after his father blaming him for his mother's death, his father leaving them, them finding his 'uncle', Liam's death, Milah's painful choice and other little disappointments he had been collecting throughout his life.

And he felt vulnerable. But, surprisingly, it wasn't a bad feeling. It was the kin of vulnerable you feel after opening up to a dear person, letting out your deepest secrets to the person you trust the most.

After that sort of conversation, he was sure she was, after his Uncle. She was the person he trusted the most. Well, he never really trusted people anyway.


	8. Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai hai. So, this one might be a bit confusing - don't blame me, I'm just following the muse - because it's been written in, like, fragments in these last three nights SOOO... Brace yourselves. Anyways, this one's a bit longer, but eh.

**Trip**

 

Killian had been dragged by Dave and his girlfriend to go on a trip with their friends. He hadn't accepted it at first, but when he mentioned they would be camping near the sea, he said yes.

So there he was, sweating like a pig, a big and heavy backpack tiring his body and an endless climb into some forest. At least he wasn't alone.

He didn't catch everyone's name, but there were two official couples - Aurora and someone, David and Mary Margaret -, two people in love but not together - the man was named Victor, for what he remembered - , three short men - he decided to name them after the dwarves in Snow White's tale: the grey bearded one was Grumpy, the one with a cold was Sneezy and the one with the beanie was Dopey - and two women - someone he forgot the name and a lass called Emma. That was it.

They were all exhausted and it was still the middle of the afternoon. He hurried up to catch up with David and stopped beside him.

"Dave, mate," he started, putting a hand in the man's shoulder. "We're all tired, we need to rest."

"But the place we're staying for the night is just after that weird shaped tree over there," he pointed at a tree, whose body was angled to the right. He didn't even look tired, and that pissed Killian off. He was dying.

With a sigh, he got back to his previous place beside Ms Emma Swan.

"So, what did he say?," she asked breathlessly.

"Apparently, our camp will be set just behind that tree," he pointed at the weird tree.

She groaned and examined the path. There was a giant fallen tree on the way, everyone needed help to pass through.

When they got to said tree, Mary Margaret went first, followed by David. Then the dwarves passed it together, the last of them helping the other woman - Regina, was it? (who, by the way, seemed utterly unsatisfied for bing there) -, giving space for Victor and his future girlfriend to blush and help each other. It was his and Swan's turn.

She went first, putting one feet on one knot of the log and pushing herself up, looking back at him, who was standing behind to catch her if she fell, like everyone else did.

"I'm okay, really, you don't have to stay there ready for when I fall," she said, stubbornly, as she put another foot on another knot. She was almost at the top of the body.

"Nothing you say will take me out of here, love," he said, incapable of hiding the smirk that crept in his lips. "It would be a shame if you're beautiful self got hurt."

She made an irked sound and rolled her eyes, continuing the way. As in a cue, one of the feet slipped and she had to grab the wood with all her strength, but she would have fallen, if he hadn't pressed his palm flat against her back and holding her in her place.

"You okay there, love?," he asked, and saw her nod, followed by an agreeing hum. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"What's so funny, Jones?"

"Ah, just how stubborn you are, trying to be a tougher lass that you actually are."

She finally reached the top and jumped over it. Her head then appeared over it and she held out her arm, waiting for him to climb up. He took off his backpack and opened it, grabbing a rope he brought. The others may have opted for the throwing-it-over-the-ginormous-tree antic, but he wanted to be more practical. He tied a tight knot to the bag and tied the other end on his wrist. He climbed the log and reached to top, jumping like Emma had done. He then told her to help him pull it over. It wasn't really hard with two people doing it.

So they continued to walk, finally reaching their destination and falling on the ground, completely ran out.

Killian laid on his back on the soft grass, the wind of the hill a great relief after hours in the woods. The place was quiet and had a few trees at the bottom.

They rested for, what, twenty minutes?, when David got up and grabbed an axe. "So, who's coming to help get wood?"

Without opening his eyes too much, Killian spoke up. "I don't want to spoil it, mate, but you don't have to cut down a tree to make a fire. You can just pick some sticks and needles and dry leaves and just bloody build it."

He could see David's disappointed frown, but it was Emma talking what got his attention. "When did you become an expert?"

"If there's a thing I'm good at, love, it's surviving," he turned his head to the side, eyeing the blonde two people away. He heard Vic's 'girlfriend' snicker - Ruby! That was her name - and raised his head in question. She didn't answer.

"Anyway, who wants to come get firewood with me?"

In the end, the dwarves and Regina went with him, Mary Margaret being responsible to refill the water bottles and Aurora and her husband went to explore the surroundings. The only left were Killian, Swan, Victor and his snickering friend.

Killian sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking at the horizon. He really could see the sea from there, as much as the dusk. The orange tones were tinging everything, and he couldn't help but notice how Swan's hair glowed prettily in that light. He tilted his head, watching it as the wind blew and made the locks wave. Her face was relaxed into a lazy small smile, which, for some reason, made the corners of his mouth curl up.

He looked around one more, seeing David and the others climbing up the hill, arms filled with sticks and leaves and, basically, firewood, when he noticed Ruby staring at him in his peripheral vision. He didn't turn his head completely, but he could see she had a puzzled yet amused look on her features. He would definitely scratch that later.

He glanced at Swan again. She was going through her things, probably looking for something to do. She fumbled with random objects and took them out, putting each one in right after.

His watching was suddenly interrupted by David clearing his throat. He adverted his gaze from her and got up, looking at him. He had his eyes slightly narrowed and a calculating expression. He then wiped it away, throwing the wood on a spot on the grass. Each of the dwarves did the same, as Regina dropped tons of dry leaves and pine needles and anything else you find on a forest floor. Dave then tossed a key and a weird cylindrical object - something that looked like a screw - at him. He threw him a questioning look, raising an eyebrow.

"Make yourself useful and make fire," he said, shrugging as he sat beside Emma.

"We brought lighters for that, mate."

"Well, then do it in the memory of the cavemen or to the sake of your survival skills or whatever."

Killian rolled his eyes. Bloody stubborn man.

He crouched next to the pile of wood and analysed the items in his hand. He had seen something like that in one of those survival programs, where you took the screw-like object in one hand and the key in the other. Then, you scratched the key over the entailed rings around the cylinder. It couldn't be that hard.

And it really wasn't. He did it in three minutes. After he elicited sparks from the scratching, he brought it close to the leaves and waited for the sparkles to actually do something to them. Finally, smoke appeared and he rushed to blow it and put it into the pile. Within three minutes or so, the fire was done.

He looked up at David, raising eyebrow once more, as if saying 'I told you I'm badass' and proceeded to sit across from them.

Aurora and Phillip - that was his name, according to the hushed conversations between David and Mary Margaret - arrived shortly after and, when he noticed, they were all around the fire, everyone chattering happily, except from him, Swan and the Regina woman. She was staring into the fire with a distant expression. Emma was playing with one of the sticks try had brought, and he could see she was drawing on the dirt between a few patches of grass on the ground, even though the fire was blocking his view.

It was getting dark. The sky was changing from the warm tones of orange and yellow to a vast collection of different colours, suck as blue, pink, purple, black... It was certainly beautiful.

He was, obviously, observing everything and everyone, watching their actions and reactions, what they were talking about and etcetera.

They weren't in the middle of the forest, resulting on the absence of fallen logs to lean back against. So he got a random book inside his backpack and laid down, back flat against the grass ground, book held above his face. It wasn't a very comfortable position, but he needed to do something other than watching people.

He suddenly felt a presence next to him and saw a glimpse of gold glowing under the light of the rising moon. He turned his head and saw Swan sitting next to him. She wasn't even looking at him, but he could say by her body expression that she was both tense and relaxed at the same time, if that was possible.

He sat up and closed the book, putting it aside. He sighed and looked at the fire.

"It's times like this when you feel the most lonely, isn't it?" He was surprised to see that, not only had she spoken up first, but how she had said it in a slightly bitter tone. However, he couldn't help but agree.

"Aye," he nods. "In the middle of a group where we don't bloody know anyone, we have nothing to talk about and feel slightly--"

"Isolated."

He looked at her, watching as she sighed. "Exactly," he says softly. She changed her position, hugging her knees and resting her chin on her arms.

That's when he noticed he eyes. He could see a sprinkle of sadness there. But it was a held and familiar sadness, as though it had been there for a long time. And that thought saddened him.

The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "How long have you been alone?" His tone wasn't mean or insensitive. It's curious.

She looked up, staring into his eyes with her own narrowed. They just stood like that for a few seconds before her expression relaxed a tiny bit. She gazed back at the fire. "Longer than I wish," she simply replied.

He studied her, seeing through her layers and layers of defences. He was reading her.

He hesitated before speaking. "What if you didn't have to anymore?"

He look went back to him. "What do you mean?," she asks, bemused.

"What do you say I take you for a drink after we go back from this place?"

She looked all but confused. "What?"

"You. Me. Drink. What do you say?"

"No, I got that part, I meant--," she stopped. "Why?"

"Because you seem to be awfully bored and I feel the same."

"So, you're asking me out because we're both bored?," she raised an eyebrow, a hint of smirk now visible.

"No, Swan," he chuckled. "I'm asking you out because I'm interested in getting to know you. You seem to be a tough lass. I prefer women who can actually look after themselves, not a damsel in distress like little Aurora there."

She let out a short laugh, and he couldn't stop the smile that crept to his face. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It really was."

They laugh together quietly. She then looked around, and her eyebrows suddenly furrowed. "Why is Ruby staring?"

He followed her gaze and it was true. The red lipped had her eyes on them with a repressed grin on her lips. Emma then got up, and walked over to her, sitting on the ground. He watched as she said something to her - apparently - friend and the latter replied with a full wolfish grin. Ruby said something and Emma's brow creased, her eyes darting to meet his. He feared what they were talking about, because it definitely included him. Emma's eyes suddenly filled with comprehension and she glared at the other woman, getting up and pacing her way back to her spot next to him.

"Got an answer?," he asked, scratching behind his ear, noting how much closer she was to him than before.

She sighed, half frustrated, half amused - even though she thought she wasn't showing that part -, and finally answered. "She ships us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk, it just seemed okay enough to stop there. I always thought of Ruby as a huge CS shipper and I've always loved this idea. 
> 
> BTW, tell me what you think of these things I call oneshots, cause I have absolutely no idea if they're good or bad, and any kind of criticising would be welcome. Really, if you want to throw daggers at me, I'll accept it.


	9. Co-workers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayokayokay THAT CS DATE KILLED ME IT'S BEEN FOUR DAYS AND IVE WATCHED THE EPISODE LIKE EIGHT OR SEVENTEEN TIMES. 
> 
> And sorry I didn't get to post earlier, I went to a trip last weekend (yes, I lost the dATE) and didn't get to write much because I did soooooooooo many things.

**Co-workers**

 

"Jones?," she called, leaning against the doorframe. He didn't move.

She raised an eyebrow. "Jones?," she called again, louder. He shifted and mumbled something. He should woke up; they had a conference in fifteen minutes.

She walked up to him and poked his shoulder, calling again. She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Jones, the meeting with Whale is in five minutes and everyone's ready."

He sat up immediately and rubbed his eyes, looking around with squinted eyes. "Five minutes?," his voice was heavy with sleep. He then fixed on her with a confusing look. "Swan, what are you doing in my room?"

"Regina 'kindly' asked me to wake you up. The meeting's in fifteen minutes, but everyone's waiting," she told him, turning her back to him and walking to the door they shared. "Please hurry up."

She heard him mumble something that sounded like 'bloody hell, woman' and closed the door.

Five minutes later, said door was opened and a half dressed Killian Jones appeared. "Swan?," he called, focused on the hole in the shirt in his hands. "Can you sew?"

She looked up from whatever the hell she was doing to stand there, mouth agape, because wow, he was hot. They've been working together for almost a year now, went three work trips together and she never got to see more skin than his upper arms and calves. So, yeah, shirtless Killian was a good reason to be slightly speechless.

This conference was happening in the west coast of Australia, so that meant beaches everywhere. She should've known she would see him like that sometime.

Of course, the 'brilliant' idea Mary Margaret had to get triple rooms with a door connecting each one of them should've been another sign. They got three of those: Emma, Elsa and Killian; Regina, Robin - Emma had always seen the attraction they felt towards each other; it didn't surprise her when Regina did everything in her power to share a wall with him - and August; and finally Mary Margaret, David - another pair of lovebirds, ugh - and Ruby. She didn't know how she ended up with Killian in the same triple, but she did. Being surrounded by people in relationships made Emma feel weird - even Ruby was flirting and being fluffy with a guy she met in the hotel, Victor something -, being her, Jones and Elsa the only single people there. She tended to deliberately ignore it most of the time, but she couldn't help but feel like that sometimes.

Emma realised she had been staring at his oddly attractive hairy torso and looked up at his face, noticing the knowing look there. That exact look snapped Emma out of her daze and clear her foggy mind filled with thoughts about touching the skin in his chest. "Um...," she pushed a stand of hair behind her ear, finally closing the drawer she was fumbling with. "Yeah, kinda."

"Can you fix this?," he handed her his shirt, pointing at the hole right in the middle of it.

She furrowed her brow. "How the hell did you manage to do this?"

He shrugged. "I have no bloody clue, I just took it of my suitcase and it was like this." He crossed his arms, making Emma's eyes dart to his chest again. Stop it. "Are your sewing skills good enough to fix it?," he asked, raising an eyebrow. How could he make everything that went out of his mouth to sound so suggestive?

She glanced at the clock in the wall and huffed. "We need to be down there in ten minutes, Jones."

"So, can you do it quickly?," he tilted his head, stepping closer to her.

She looked right into his eyes. He always did that. He could read her, and he could feel when she got nervous or anxious; and he always enjoyed when she was, for some reason. So he did everything he could to make her feel uncomfortable. Invading her personal space was often an option. She learned how to maintain control of her emotions, but it didn't always work. Sometimes, her heart sped up and she felt something at the pit of her stomach. Sometimes, she could feel the heat on her cheeks and the sudden lump on her throat. Sometimes, she couldn't exactly react. So she just stared into the blue infinity of his perfect orbs and waited for something to happen. This was one of those times.

As he stared back at her, she could feel her heartbeat, a quick rhythm playing on her chest and rumbling on her ears, she could feel the butterflies on her belly as he continue to read her like an open book. He was staring too, a mix of awe and slight astonishment in his eyes, probably because it wasn't many times they got that close. She only then noticed they were inches apart, so dug into the staring-contest-of-death to realise it. She could feel his breath on her cheek and the warm coming from him, even through her jacket. When she finally felt the heat coming up her neck, she broke eye contact to focus on the shirt.

"I think I can." It was so quiet she thought he didn't hear it. But when she felt soft fingers being placed under her chin and lifting it back up, she was sure he did.

"Don't kill me," was the last thing she heard before she felt surprisingly soft lips being pressed against hers. She didn't feel anything for one or two seconds, it was as soft and light as a feather, but when she finally realised Killian Jones, the smug, cocky bastard, was kissing her, she reacted. Though it was not as she liked.

In her mind, she would be pushing him away, shouting he was nuts and he was an idiot and that it had been disgusting and he shouldn't do that anymore.

But that's not exactly what happened. Her body acted at its own accord, moving even closer to his. Her mouth moved under his, her head tilting to angle deeper and he got the call. His arm snaked around her waist as his hand cupped her jaw, something she didn't expect to happen, honestly.

Not that she hadn't thought about this - he was an extremely attractive man as she was just a woman -, but she had always imagined it would be rough and violent and the sexual tension would be too much. However he was strangely delicate, like he was caring for her too, not only for his need. She knew she was somehow attracted to him, and Ruby kept insisting he felt something for her too, even though she never believed. Well, now she can.

Her hand travelled up his, ehem, very naked chest to rest on his shoulder. The other one was absent-mindely placed on his arm, as if saying 'I'm still here, on God'.

Was she really kissing her co-worker minutes before an important conference meeting? She almost chuckled at the thought. A year of innuendos and 'casual' flirting and arguments. If she could picture a sort if friendship between them, it certainly over.

When she felt his tongue brush over her lower lip, she didn't really hesitate in giving him passage, which should've scared her, but didn't. She couldn't stop the moan that crept from her throat at the contact, fighting the urge to smile when his hand tightened on her hip.

When oxygen became a problem to them, she pulled back, but lingered for a while, touching his forehead with hers. She could feel his scruff against the tip of her nose and how it moved when he smiled. It was a soft smile, different that any other she had seen from him. It was like he was cherishing the moment, processing what just happened and pressing replay over and over again in his mind. She brushed the back of her fingers over his scruffed jaw and couldn't stop a smile of her own.

The moment was interrupted by Emma's phone buzzing in her pocket.

"That must be Ruby," she whispered, still not moving an inch. He hummed in agreement and nudged his nose against her cheek. "We need to go," she insisted, fighting the urge to leap forward against him again.

"We do, don't we?," he mumbled, his voice minimally rough. He almost sounded sad.

She nodded and finally stepped back, turning to the door and trudging outside. She knew he would follow her.

Her theory was proven right when she heard hasty footsteps behind her and an hesitant palm slip against hers. She wasn't really one for PDA's, but, right now, she couldn't bring herself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KAYKAYKAY THAT WAS LUKE MY FIRST REAL DESCRIPTION OF A KISS IN A FANFICTION *pops champagne* *accidentally breaks the bottle*


	10. Zombie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idek I just produced fluff.

**Zombie**

 

The first zombie growled. The second one roared. The last one looked at him with a psychotic look.

Killian looked around, a fierce expression on his face, as he held up both of his guns.

"Don't move," he mumbled to the monsters.

The three zombies attacked and he pulled the trigger. One, two, three, four times. In within ten seconds, three definitely dead corpses lied on the ground. He gazed at them, thinking how their past lives must have been.

"And... CUT! That's it, everyone, see you all tomorrow at 8."

His shoulders relaxed. An automatic smile crept to his lips as he looked down at the zombies. He helped Graham and Leroy to get up - struggling a bit more with the latter -, friendly tapping Graham's shoulder when he passed by towards the make-up tent. He then looked back at the ground and helped the blonde woman to get up, wrapping her with his arms when she steadied herself, eliciting giggles from her. "Get off, you murderer."

He chuckled and placed a popped kiss on her cheek. "I shan't."

She wriggled out of his wrap and smacked his arm, smiling up at him. She looked beautiful, even covered in blood and with those messed up coloured contacts. Her blonde hair was dirty and tangled, due the fantastic work of their make-up artist, Ruby and her skin was a weird mixture of green and brown and red, with cuts and scratched and bruises everywhere.

"Emma!," the director, Robin, called. "Can you come here for a second?"

She looked at Killian, apologetic, and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips before turning to the crowd around the director's chair. He watched as she dug her way through the people and disappeared in the wall of bodies.

When he told his brother he wanted to be an actor, Liam supported him more than anyone. He then met this beautiful girl, the which he fell in love with quicker than he would like to admit: Emma Swan. His precious swan, his nearly-everything. When he found out Emma wanted to be an actress too, he did everything he could to help; until he talked to the director of this zombie movie he was going to make and convinced him to put his new girlfriend on it. And there she was, disguised under a new layer of sense make-up. She appeared more in the movie than most people would think, the only thing changing from one zombie to another being the amount of stuff on her. So he was happy he got to spend quite some time with his love while he worked. Mainly when she was growling incoherent words and roaring like an animal.

He spied and she got back to him and snaked her arm around his, tugging him towards Ruby's tent.

"You know, I've never seen your make-up being removed," he commented, pushing the canvas aside and letting her in, following after.

"Well, then," she said, slumping on the chair and leaning her head back to look up at him, who was standing behind her. "Just stay and see."

He smiled at her and bent down, kissing the tip of her nose, making it wrinkle - adorable.

Ruby sauntered in and greeted them, opening her case and taking out some wipes. She rubbed them professionally over Emma's face, each stroke revealing a piece of perfect skin that was before hidden by make-up. In within five minutes, Emma's face was uncovered and clean.

"Come on, Captain," Ruby called, tapping the back of the seat after Emma got up. "Your turn."

He sat and felt Emma's fingers push his hair from his forehead, gently caressing his jaw and neck, making him shiver.

After his face was cleaned, he got up and laced his fingers with Swan's, throwing a thank you over his shoulder to Ruby, who replied with a nod and a grin that could only he defined as 'wolfish'.

"So," he started, slightly squeezing her hand. "How's the zombie multi-personality going?"

She laughed. "It's going well. How's the killing all me's in every scene I appear?"

"It's going well," he mirrors, earning a smack on the chest. "I'm just joking, love, it breaks me to see you lying dead on the ground. Makes me imagine what would my life be without you."

She glanced up at him, her eyes soft. "And how's that?"

He looked ahead of them, to the great collection of trailers in front of where they stood. He then shrugged. "Pointless. Humourless. Unreasonable."

A smirk tugged in the corner if her lips. "Sap."

He grinned and kissed her temple. "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff.


	11. Nanny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kay Kay Kay I'm not exactly alive after Sunday's episode and I watched Pride and Prejudive for the first time and became absurdly obsessed with it and now I'm reading the book and I started a CS fanfiction in a Pride and Prejudice AU and I won't post it cause it's just for fun and ugh.

**Nanny**

 

"Liam?," Killian called, entering the living room, to be surprised by a blind beauty sitting on the couch with his nephew on her arms.

She looked up and the smile she kept on her lips wavered slightly. "Hi," she said, putting the toddler on the cushions next to her and getting up, holding out a hand. "Emma Swan. I'm the nanny."

Comprehension took his features and he shook it. She was quite beautiful, if they asked him. Long blonde locks framing a porcelain skinned face with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. Maybe it was just the shock of seeing we for the jest time, or just the fact that they were extremely green.

She was looking at him expectantly when he finally realised she was waiting for him to introduce himself as well. "Oh, Killian Jones."

"Ah, Liam's brother, right?," she asked, the smile coming back slowly and he couldn't help but smile back; it was kind of contagious. She then raised an eyebrow. "Are you all British around here?," she joked, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Sort of, yes," he replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "Liam met Melody back in England when he was visiting Robin - an old family friend - and they've been together ever since. They got married a few years ago and then we all moved I America because, well, just because; we wanted to change our lives a bit. They had Oliver about a year ago and Melody got back to work around the time they hired you..."

"That's quite a journey," she points out, sitting back on the couch and taking little Oliver in her arms again.

"It really is," he chuckled, and sat on the chair in front of her.

And the day went on: they kept talking about anything in specific and he tried his best to help her if she needed, for some reason he didn't even know. Liam and Melody came back around 7, leaving the cue for Emma to leave, and Killian found himself sad for having to say goodbye to her.

"Someone's smitten," Melody singsonged when they were cleaning the table after dinner.

He furrowed his brow at her. "What are you saying?"

"Oh, come on, Killy!," she insisted. He hated when she called him that, but, no matter how much he tried, she would always do it. "She's gotten into you."

"Who?"

"Emma, you dumbo," she gave him an unimpressed look.

He scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"It is true, you know?," he heard Liam's voice behind him and turned around to face his brother, who was holding Oliver. "You really do act different around her. And by 'different' I mean less of an arsehole and more of a gentleman."

"I am always a gentleman, brother."

Liam snorted and passed his son o his wife's opened arms. He then walked towards Killian and smacked his hand on his shoulders, leaving it there. "Killian, just because she's our nanny, doesn't mean you can't take her out on a date."

"Who said I want to take her out?" He was on the defensive, he knew; but he wouldn't admit he was actually kind of starting to like Emma.

"Your eyes. Every time you looked at her, I could see it in your eyes."

He shook his head and went out to the garden, rubbing the back of his index finger on his nephew's rounded and soft cheek. He looked up when he got outside and admired the night sky. It had quite a lot of stars that day.

For some reason, the view have him a boost in his trust and he got inside, entered the kitchen and looked for her name on one of the hundreds d pieces of paper stuck to the fridge. Finally finding it, he recorded it on his phone and saved it for later. Maybe he would stop being a coward and just invite her to, well, anything, really.

In the end, she accepted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't bring myself to write a nanny Killian and momma Emma or dada Killian and nanny Emma, cause I've seen so many of these, I just couldn't write something original. So, yeah, Liam came back to life (I love when that happens). Btw, Oliver was named like that because I'm currently going through a Disney Classics obsession and half an hour ago I was watching (and living) Oliver and Company and it was just the first name that popped into my mind.


	12. Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little - not really - monster I have crated at 2 AM. 
> 
> PS: this is absurdly Pride and Prejudice related, so, if you don't like it, I recommend you to just not read this one. If you've never seen it or watched it dO IT. DO IT NOW.

**Play**

 

"Okay, this is a _complete_...," Regina, the director, shouted to the crowd on the stage. "...and _utter_ disaster. I'm about to give up, honestly."

Due the distance, she didn't hear the mumbled _'then do it'_ that got out through Emma's clenched teeth. The play was not that bad, but the impatient, complaining and _insufferable_ director was making it an awful lot harder. She kept stopping and correcting them about something that wasn't really bad to something not very different. And that pissed everyone - _mainly_ Emma - out.

"You know what?," she heard the voice at her side speak up. There was hostility in his tone, and she already dreaded the thing he was about to say. She looked at him and pleaded with her eyes, but Graham wasn't facing her. "I give up."

Emma's eyes widened and her mouth fell agape; when he looked at her again, he had the decency to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, Emma," he said to her, turning to a stunned Regina after. "But I just can't do this anymore. Not with _her_ in the direction."

Emma could see Regina looked offended, but she didn't really care, not when her co-star and almost main character of the play was giving up. And, to be honest, she wouldn't really care in any other circumstance.

As Graham walked down the stairs off the stage, Regina jumped from her seat. Emma figured she would go after him and try to bring him back; but she instead paced towards them and hopped on the stage. "We are screwed."

Emma groaned; why was _this_ the only situation she could agree with Regina? Why couldn't it be the colour of the tree on the set or the height of the hem of her dress?

They were making _Pride and Prejudice_ , by Jane Austen, and Emma was Elizabeth, Graham was Mr Darcy and David, her brother, was Mr Bingley. He was more than happy when Mary Margaret was casted to play Jane, making sure to remark she was "really the fairest of them all". Sometimes, Emma wanted to grab both heads and just shove then against each other (interpret this the way you want).

And now Mr Darcy was gone. No one would ever agree to do this part now, with all the others already set and two weeks for the premiere. Regina was quite a known director, so they would expect _some_ people.

"Does anyone have a _faint_ idea of what we should do?," the black haired asked, a tone of defeat clear in her tired voice.

"Um...," Ruby stepped forward, making all eyes glue on her. "I _think_ I can help."

"What? How?," Emma spoke up, completely turning to face her.

"Victor has this friend, Killian Jones, and he said he's been on a play or two. Maybe he could accept it."

Hope filled Regina's featured for the first time in days and she dismissed everyone but Ruby.

Emma went home, feeling disconcerted about who and how her new costar must be.

 

* * *

 

"People!," Regina called from the stage and everyone looked up at her and the rather handsome man next to her. He must be the said Killian Jones. He actually fit quite well into the character: tall, black hair, piercing blue eyes, a blank expression and a good posture. "This is Killian Jones." _Aha_. "He accepted quite immediately the part for Darcy and he'll be replacing Mr Humbert after the latter's turn down."

Emma could here three or four of the giggling actresses _giggle_ when he scanned the crowd on the seats. She noticed how he frowned his eyebrows at them as she rolled her eyes. When she returned her look to him, his gaze was upon her. Even if it was for two or three seconds, he made her feel weird, _vulnerable_. His stare was broken when David asked him about the other plays he had done.

After each one introducing themselves to the newcomer ("Killian Jones, at your service." "Emma Swan." "Ms Bennet, I gather." "Depends on which one of the five."), they got up on the stage and Tink held out the scripts to all of them.

Emma watched as his eyes scanned the page and he looked for his first appearance ("Page 15, Jones." "Ah. Thanks, love.") and everyone went to their places.

He first entered the stage at the ball, they were all laughing and dancing and him, David and Katherine entered and made everything grow silent. He silently paced to the other side of the invisible room with his two companions as Tink murmured informations about them ("Ten thousand pounds a year.").

The hard part of this play was that they had to put English accents. Not very hard to Tink and Gold - both Scottish -, or to Belle - Australian -, and obviously not for Robin and Mr Jones - English and probably Irish -. Emma had practiced her accent for weeks and finally managed to put on a decent one; and she was glad she was able to, as David fails miserably at speaking the word ' _pleasure_ '.

The first scene they rehearse together is the one where Elizabeth's writing to Jane and Darcy appears in the room at Mr Collin's house. He has to look unquiet, nervous and concerned. And Killian nails it.

She's sitting on the bench they brought, pretending to write, when she heard his heavy footsteps on the stage's wood-planked floor. She got up, turned around and looked into his deep blue eyes. She made a curtesy. "Mr Darcy. May I help you?"

"I, er...," Killian, or even, Darcy stuttered. "No, not really." Killian was doing a good job, his chest heaving with false breathlessness.

She stared at him and they continued in silence, just as it's supposed to be. He must've seen the movie, his expression so similar to the 2005 version of Darcy. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?," he said rather quickly.

"Yes, it is. I was jut writing to my sister; she went to London with my aunt and uncle."

"That's good."

She nodded and fingered the hem of her shirt. The weird thing about this scene is that they were  _really_ starting to get uncomfortable with each other - which improved it much more -. As she continued to look at him, she started to notice the details in his appearance, like the scar on his right cheek, or how _way_ _too_ _blue_ his eyes were, or how there was a sprinkle of ginger in the scruff that covered his jaw. _How can someone be so pretty at eight in the morning?_ She looked down and noticed the variety of scars on his left hand as he held the script. He was fumbling with is front pocket's edge with his other one.

"So...," he was still a bit breathless. "I- Ms Bennet, I must go now." And stormed out of the stage, meeting a stones look Tink - Charlotte - on the way.

"What did you do to poor Mr Darcy?," she asked, the correct amount of shock in her voice.

"I have _no_ idea..."

And she lingered a bit lore before looking at Regina, expectantly.

She didn't have a sour nor disapproval look on her five, which was something new, and spoke up. "It's not bad, actually. But I doubt you two will do the same in the premiere."

Emma prayed she was wrong.

 

* * *

 

"These last few months have been torture," Killian said, loud and clear, in the silence of the theatre. She just looked at him, feeling a bit weird between the stages of dry and wet - result from where they tried to soap her wet, but not wet enough to make puddles on the stage's floor - and she ironically thanked Jane Austen for writing a scene in the middle of a storm. "I came to Rosings only to see you; I _had_ to see you. I have fought against my judgement, my family’s expectation, the inferiority of your birth and my rank." Killian was doing wonderfully, and she was glad he was doing exactly the same as these last two weeks. "I will put them aside and ask you to end my agony."

Emma got her cue. "I... Don't understand--," she said in a trembling voice, to be interrupted.

"I love you." Emma almost believed that, and the remark made her heart beat faster. She could feel the slight heat coming up her neck as she stared him back. His gaze was so deep and actually pained she almost reached out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder - until she reminded herself they were _acting_. "Most ardently," he added, his own voice shaking a slight bit. "Please do me the honour of accepting my hand," he finally said, ducking his head an inch or two.

Emma was tempted in ruining the play and say yes, but theatre was her passion, and she wouldn't give it up by a _god_ who plays her romantic interest in a play.

"Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. It was unconsciously done," she finally said, looking up into his eyes one more. She looked into her own character, trying to find the emotions and feelings she would've felt and putting it into action: astonishment, shock, somewhat nice surprise, and a growing anger in the pit of her stomach.

Mr Killian Darcy - what - seemed hurt. "Is this you reply?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, nodding.

"Are you-- Are you laughing at me?," he asked, his face wrinkling in a mix of confusion and pain.

She was quick to reply. "No!"

"Are you... _Rejecting_  me?", he wondered in a weak voice, the last part whispered.

"I’m sure that the feelings which, as you’ve told me have hindered your regard, will help you in overcoming it," she put as much bitterness in her speak as she could.

"Might I ask why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus repulsed?"

"And I might as well inquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me...," she continued, half ignoring the question. "...you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgment. If I was uncivil, then that is some excuse. But I have other reasons, you _know_ I have."

"What reasons?"

"Do you think...," she started. "...that _anything_ might tempt me to accept the hand of the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?" He was silent. "Do you deny that you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to censure of the world for caprice and my sister to derision for disappointed hopes, involving them both in misery of the acutest kind--?"

"I do not deny it," he answered, interrupting her before he accused him any further. His brow was furrowed in something that looked like... Regret? She knew he put that much effort into his facial and body expression because Regina managed to record the play with fancy cameras and various cameramen.

She looked up at him, disbelief taking her face. "How could you do it?," she asked, her voice quiet.

"Because I beloved your sister indifferent to him," he confessed, his look adverting from her to look behind her shoulder, to his feet, to the non-existing sky above them...

" _Indifferent_?," the tone of utter disbelief in her voice was product of the realisation that the hardest part to do was coming in some seconds and a slight panic set itself into her chest.

"I observed them most carefully and realized his attachment was far deeper than hers," he concluded. She could see his eyes reassuring her she could make it. She was impressed he could remember the words, control his facial expressions and still remember how she struggled to make that scene during the rehearsals. She was thankful, to be honest.

"That's because she's _shy_!," she exclaimed, her loud voice echoing through the stage.

"Bingley was persuaded she didn’t feel strongly," he accused, shifting his weight from a foot to another, gesturing with his right hand.

" _You_ suggested it," she raised an eyebrow, fearing the rest of the scene.

"I did it for his own good!," he defended, furrowing his brow again, his eyes focusing on her and only her, as if begging for her to understand. That was the cool about acting: the actors themselves could see the real emotion behind the other'a words.

"My sister hardly shows her true feelings to _me_!," she shouts, stepping the smallest of steps towards him. Silence followed and it sounded like everyone was holding their breaths. So she continued. "I suppose his… fortune had some bearing?"

"No, believe me, I wouldn’t do your sister the dishonour; it was just merely suggested--"

"What was?," she interrupted once more.

"It was clear that an advantageous marriage would be the worst option possible--"

"Did my sister give that impression?," she asked, challenging.

"No!-- No. There was, however, the matter of your family--"

"Our want of connection? Mr Bingley did not seem to object--," it was her time to be interrupted, as she well remembered Regina yelling at them.

"No, it was more than that," he insisted.

"How, sir?," she challenged again. It was near the end. She was never particularly fond of this scene; the amount of emotion and words to memorise being almost too much for her to function.

"It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, and even, on the occasion, your fa--"

His line was interrupted by the sudden darkness that hit them. Gasps and yelps echoed all around the room as everyone found themselves.

A _blackout_? _Really?_ In the middle of the premiere they've been rehearsing for for weeks? Of course. She should've seen it coming, honestly.

They could've gone on, but the lack of energy turned off the microphones they were using and the lights, making the stage dark as night.

The emergency lights quickly lit up, just enough for everybody to see where they were going.

Emma looked at Killian in a mix of pure disbelief and ridiculous amusement. She let out a short laugh, and he followed; soon, they were both wiping the tears away.

He then did something she wouldn't really allow anyone to do, only David and occasionally Mary Margaret, and she did for some unknown reason: he _hugged_ her. It was natural and familiar - they were still laughing - and he just slowly threw his arms around her shoulders, pinning her to him. She wouldn't use the ' _I got trapped and couldn't get out'_ excuse; she really enjoyed it, and reciprocated two seconds later.

He felt warm and cozy and smelled like the sea and leather and a scent she would forever remember as _his_. She could also feel his long yet subtle inhale next to her ear, and she felt better she wasn't the only weirdo in the hug who smelled other person.

It's worth mentioning they didn't let go that soon - they were completely alone in there, everyone had gone out already -, they lingered for twenty seconds - _maybe thirty?_ \- until she let go. Well, for now, because he held her again later that night, energy back up, in a 24 hour coffee place around the corner. And the day after that. And the next. And just- _forever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I've realised is that I normally end my chapters with a gigantic mystery of how they proceeded in their relationship, like, how was their first real date, or how long did they stay together before getting married and stuff will continue, though, it's the kinky way I can end a chapter decently, apparently.


	13. Disney World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while to be written - thank you, writer's block, I hope you burn in hell - and it turned out better than I THOUGHT it would be.

**Disney World**

 

Emma had recently gotten the job of her dreams. Well, everyone's dreams, at a point in their lives. She was yet to meet her new workmates and she was quite nervous about it - she was never a people's person -, which made her anxious about parking her yellow bug in the employees parking lot of the Disney World Magic Kingdom.

She gathered her things and looked at the dawning sky. The only bad thing about this job, so far: you need to wake up at 6 am, then have your make up done until 8, when you then entertain families and children. Getting out of the car, she paced towards the little blue door inside a building to her left. She opened the door, to be welcomed by a dozen of normal looking people chatting. Literally, it was a small room - it reminded her of a locking room, and she shuddered - with fourteen or fifteen people gathered in the chairs and standing up.

When she looked around properly, she saw the room was Disney-themed. A small smile crept to her lips when the fact that she was now working at _Disney World_ attacked her.

"Hey!," she heard a voice to her left greet. She turned her head and saw a petit blonde with dark eyes smiling brightly at her.

"Hi," she said back, returning the smile because, well, you need to start your friendships soon.

"I'm Tinker Bell," she held out a hand. "But you can call me Rose."

She was starting to like the Scottish girl. Shaking her hand, Emma introduced herself.

"Oh, the new Rapunzel! We're glad Mr Gold got to hire someone so quickly after the _last one_ left."

Emma's smile broadened. "Well, I'm glad to be the hired person."

Rose laughed, but it was suddenly interrupted by a gasp. "You need to meet everyone!," she exclaimed, getting a hold on her wrist and pulling her towards the people. She met Mary Margaret and David, perfect impersonations of Snow White and Prince Charming; Ashley, real life Cinderella; Robbie, the eighteen year-old British Peter Pan; Sarah and Phillip, Aurora and - coincidentally - Prince Phillip; Ariel - or Joanna -; Georgina as Elsa (that was new); and finally, Jamie as Mulan. The scary thing about it, though, was that it seemed they were _born_ to wear those costumes. Their faces actually reminded Emma of the cartoon. _Scary_.

At 7, the door at the end of the room was opened and a girl papeares. She introduced herself ("I'm Ruby, but you can call me Red", her love for red and wolves claiming the nickname) and called them in. Inside, there was a pretty big space with costumes, outfits, loads of rows of mirrors and dozen make up artists, she gathered. It was quite impressive.

"Where's Killian? He was supposed to be here by now...," she heard Rose ask Mary Margaret, who shrugged and sat on one of the chairs in front of the mirrors.

Curiosity won and she paced to Tinker Bell. "Who's Killian?"

"Oh, he's _Flynn Ryder_ ," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"You mean he's my--"

"Yeah, pain in the ass for the whole day, four days a week," she said with an innocent smile.

"Pain in the ass?," Emma asked, not even trying to hide her interest for Eugene Fitzherbert.

"Yeah, you'll see it when he gets here..."

As in a cue, the door opened and a man came in. And _what a man._

He was also sort of fitting for Flynn, but the darker hair and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen spoiled the image a bit. To be honest, she preferred that way.

_Jesus, Emma, you didn't even meet the guy yet._

His eyes darted to her as soon as he got in the room, a smirk creeping to his face as he sauntered towards her. "Hello, love," he held out a hand. "Killian Jones." He was Irish, _great_.

When she reluctantly took it, she was startled to see him raise it to his mouth and press his lips on her knuckles. She could feel her face get warm, damn it.

She realised she was staring and quickly blinked. "Um...," she stuttered. When did she start acting like a teenage girl? "Emma. Swan."

"Well, Swan, I'm glad to hear I'm stuck with you all day," he raised an eyebrow, smirk broadening as he eyes her head to toe. "To be honest, I don't think anyone would _despair_."

He was _flirting_. With her. At 7 am in the morning. And damn, it was working.

She needed to gather her thoughts again to reply, but, before she could do it, a voice called her. "Emma?," it was Ruby. She turned around and saw the red lipped gesturing to the seat in front of her. She glanced one more time at the British blue eyes before she paced to Ruby.

As she sat, she could see the brunette sending her a knowing look and a grin through the mirror. "What?"

"I see you met _Captain Innuendo_ there," she pointed at Mr Jones, who was sitting about five mirrors from them.

"Yeah," she answered. "Why?"

"Oh, come on, I saw you _swooning_."

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did!," Ruby laughed, brushing her hair to put it under a cap.

She looked over at Killian again and saw that his hair styler/make up artist was also putting a cap on his head. Maybe his hair was a little too dark. She still wouldn't complain.

"Oh my God, you're looking at him _right now_!," Ruby squealed. Emma quickly shushed her and looked at herself in the mirror. "Okay, turn around, I'm gonna turn you into a big-eyed Disney princess."

 

* * *

 

According to Gold the day he hired her, she needed to be sweet. Sweet and clumsy and uplifting and goody about, well, everything. So Emma put her acting lessons at school from when she was 15 into use and did the best she could. She could feel she was doing okay.

Killian beside her was definitely a distraction, but he kept his Flynn Ryder façade all the time, which was wonderful. He kept his flirty smirk for Emma, though, reserving the kids a bright broad smile.

The kids. They were just _incredible_. It was amazing how much they _adored_ the characters. Some believed they were real life Rapunzel and Flynn, which was awesome.

"Mom! It's Rapunzel!," a little girl once screamed to her mother, tugging at the latter's hand towards them. Emma's smile automatically lit up and she looked up at Killian. He was also smiling and looking at the newcomer.

"Hi, there!," Emma said, crouching to be at her eyes height. "What's your name?"

The girl, differently than the other kids who hid behind their mothers with a shy expression, came rushing to stand a feet from her, gazing with awe. "Lily," she breathed, and Emma's heart clenched a little. She even looked like her long gone teenage years friend.

"Well, Lily," she got up and grabbed Killian's arm, hugging it - _acting_ \- and pulling him a bit more to the girl. "This is Flynn."

"He's not Flynn anymore, he's Eugene!," the girl laughed, stepping the smallest of steps closer.

"How do you know that?," Emma pretended surprise. "I thought I was the only one who knows it - well, except for Pascal and Max, right?"

"It was in the movie!"

"And did you like the movie?," Killian's voice had the American accent in it - she prefers the British accent, way more sexier. _Stop it, Emma_ \- and that confused her. She was already used to him calling her ' _lass_ ' or ' _love_ ' with the accent or simply ' _Swan_ '.

"Yes!," Lily was definitely having the time of her life, her mother's hand long forgotten now. "Max's is my favourite!" She then gasped and looked around excited. "Is he here?!"

"Nah, he's eating his lunch now," Killian answered, getting hold of Emma's hand. It felt so natural, yet so strange; she couldn't ignore the jolt elicited every time she touched him. "You must know a strong horse like that needs his pile of apples and horse food."

Lily looked slightly disappointed, but still contagiously happy. Well, she had just met Rapunzel and Flynn Ryder, right? "That's okay, I also love you two. Eugene!," she suddenly exclaimed, startling both of them. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Well, that was one, but I'll give you infinite more."

Lily was beaming, but her face got a tad bit more serious. "Do you love Rapunzel?"

That was certainly a first, judging by his surprised face. But he just gazed at Emma - Rapunzel - lovingly. "With all my heart," he said, and she looked into his eyes, losing herself in the blue depths of his orbs. She admitted to herself she could stare into them forever, never getting done or bored. He had a tiny smile on his face, but her face was screaming ' _awe_ '. She just couldn't look away.

Her state broke off when she heard Lily scream. "IS THAT OLAF?! MOM, IT'S OLAF!" She grabbed her mother's hand again and ran to the snowman, shouting a goodbye over her shoulder to them. They waved and Emma realised she was still holding his hand. She didn't pull back. And _of course_ it was because they were supposed to look like a couple - not because the feeling if his warm calloused palm against hers pleased her, or because she loved how his thumb was tracing invisible patterns on the back of her hand. _Of course_ not.

_You can't fool yourself, Emma._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked how I managed to leave the real relationship part out of this one. I spent some time reading Tumblr fanfictions and I realised most of them just END. PERIOD.


	14. Roommates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this reminds me of Why Is It So Hard and how I haven't written a WORD of the next chapter, oops.

**Roommates**

 

She hadn't expected Ruby to have another best friend when she moved in. Hell, she didn't even expect him to be her Irish cousin.

Not that Emma knew much about him; but Ruby _mentioned_ him sometimes. She never remembered his name, no matter how many times her friend said it. But now that she was living with the brunette, said cousin probably spent more time at their place than, well, _any other_ place.

Emma first thought it was weird. She wasn't really used to have a man inside her home's walls - _if_ she could already call it that -, even less wen he was purposefully flirty and charming. Not to mention handsome. Very handsome.

But after a couple of weeks, she found comfort in him. She saw he actually could be a good - _better_ \- person when he wanted, that he had his flaws, but also has his perks, like his wits, his honesty and his want to help them both.

After week three, Emma had to admit she was starting to like him. The more time he spent there, more she got to know him and more she liked him. The more he opened up to her, more she trusted him.

At week five, Ruby sat down next to her on the couch while her cousin was in the bathroom. "Emma?"

Emma looked up from the book she was reading. "Yeah?"

"Be honest with me," Ruby said, raising an eyebrow.

Emma mirrored her. "About...?"

"Do you think Killian's a good suitor?"

What. " _Suitor_? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, please, don't pretend I didn't notice the yearning looks and doey eyes you two have been exchanging for the past three weeks."

"Doey-- I don't _yearn_." She was on the defensive, but she couldn't help it. She _did not_ yearn.

"Yes, you do, and so does he," Ruby insisted. "Look, it's pretty obvious he's into you."

"Is it?," the blonde narrowed her eyes.

"It is to me," she shrugged.

"Well, it's not to me," Emma concluded, but Ruby didn't seem to see an end to the conversation.

"Well, he is. And I've been watching you two lately. Come on, haven't you realised how you're the first person he greets when he gets here, even if I'm in front of him in the room? Or how he asks your opinion before mine? Or how he flirts like hell with you all the time? Please, this can't be normal."

Emma wished she had something to say, but she really didn't. She hadn't noticed before, but now, looking back at it, she did. Killian always came _directly_ to her. He always did everything he could to sit beside her on the _freaking_   _couch_ , for God's sake; how couldn't she have noticed it before?

The worst part is that a piece of her was screaming that she was into him too. That she loved the way he called her 'Swan' or 'love' like it was the most normal thing ever. That she did the same things he did, but most of it absent-mindedly - because _of course_ fighting the urge to pull him by his collar towards her was caused by an unconscious thought-.

Ruby opened her mouth to say something - probably the fact that Emma was obviously an idiot or not seeing it before - when they heard Killian's voice. " _Uh, Ruby? What in the blazers is this_?"

The red lipped roller her eyes and got up, striding to the bathroom. Not even ten seconds had passes when she heard a hysterical laugh coming from there. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was happening.

When they got back - Ruby still shaking from laughter and Killian with a small pout on his lips -, she asked what had happened.

" _Killy_ found our precious beauty treatment."

That elicited a laugh from Emma she didn't expect.

Their 'beauty treatment' was the result of boredom and a free afternoon for the both of them. A mixture of tons of sorts of shampoos, creams and tad bit of maple syrup inside a bottle. They didn't even know why they've kept it, they just did. And, apparently, Killian had thought it was a weird hand soap.

She heard him mumble something that sounded like "I'll pour it all over your faces while you sleep" as he sat down in the armchair in front of the couch, which made the two girls laugh even harder at him. He only had a tiny smile on his mouth, a slight tug of the corners of his lips; but it _was_  something, a sign he was really not offended by then laughing _at_ him, not _with_ him.

After they all settled down, Ruby suddenly got up. "Oh my God, I need to get ready. Victor's picking me up in like half an hour."

"That new _friend_ of yours?," Killian said, wiggling his thick eyebrows.

"Shut up," Ruby blushed and turned around to walk to her bedroom.

They stood in a comfortable silence, something rare in Emma's life, every kind of silence being considered awkward in her opinion. She was reading - _pretending to read_ \- the book in her hands, but she could feel his gaze upon her. She could see him in the corner of her eye, constantly watching her.

"You can turn the page now, love." _Crap_. She wasn't paying the slight attention on the book.

_Screw it._

She closed the book with a soft thud and looked up at him. He didn't look away, neither did she. So they just stared into each other's eyes. For how long? She didn't know, she just lost herself in the blue infinite and waited for something to happen.

She saw the moment it clicked inside of him, and then it clicked inside of her, and she knew what to do. So she got up and strode towards him, doing what she had been wanting to do for quite some time. She pulled him by the front of his shirt and was actually impressed he didn't fight back. Her legs were already a bit shaky because _damn_ , she was doing this, and she nearly stumbled over him when she pressed her mouth against his, a feeling similar to relief after a long time waiting for something spreading across her chest. 

She felt his hand slide up her forearm and his arm be placed on her waist, pulling her towards him. His other hand came to rest on her jaw, cupping her face in a delicate way that made her _actually sigh._ One of her hands was still on his shirt, but the other had sled up his chest and was now caressing the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips were impossibly soft under hers, both moving in synchrony as they moved even further, their chests already pressed against each other. He tasted of mint and faint rum and his hair was even softer than she imagined before - believe it, she had imagined this uncountable times before - and she never thought she would get enough of his hand tangling in her hair, or the way his other hand slowly slid up and down her back.

They were drowning in the kiss, but she heard Ruby's heels clicking on the wooden floor directly to the door and the sound of the it closing. The fact that her steps were steady and didn't falter in surprise or astonishment meant she had planned this. Emma could almost see the wolfish grin plastered on her friend's face.

Then finally - _finally_  - breathing became a problem for the both of them and she pulled back, lingering before opening her eyes. She rested her forehead on his as she looked up at his blue orbs.

His voice was husky and his breath was laboured when he spoke up. "That was..."

"A good start," she said, smiling up at him as he pulled her to his lap - her position wasn't exactly comfortable, right? - and dived into another breathtaking kiss.

_A good start indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite liked to write this one, to be honest. It only took twenty minutes.


	15. Amnesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hurt.

**Amnesia**

 

" _Um, am I speaking to Ms Emma Swan?_ ," the voice in the phone said.

This can't be good. "Yeah. Who is it?"

The voice hesitated before answering. " _I'm Doctor Victor Whale, and I'm speaking from th_ \--"

But Emma wasn't listening anymore. Doctor Whale. _Doctor_. Henry was in the room next to hers, and her parents were in the kitchen. The only person who was not there was...

"... _Mr Jones got into a car crash. The person who was driving the other car lost control of the wheel and slipped on the ice. The driver survived with a few bruises, but Mr Jones..._ "

The pause that followed made Emma's heart race a she stopped whatever the hell she was doing before.

"What happened?"

" _Mr Jones's been unconscious since then. We don't know precisely when we will wake up, but our guess is in within 48 hours. We'll tell you the details of his conditions once you're here_."

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe because, by the doctor's tone, it was bad. Really bad.

She didn't answer, she just hung up and literally stormed into the kitchen, unable to speak, just throwing her parents a panicked look.

"Emma?," her mother ran to her side, her father on her heels. "What's wrong?"

She had to force the words out of her mouth. "Killian... He-- car crash. Unconscious. Hospital." The words were choked and watery, as she was literally doing everything she could to not break down. She _had_ to see him first.

"What?," her father questioned, cupping her face with his hands, making her look at his eyes. She saw the worry and the fear in his eyes. Killian was her fiancée, but one of her father's best friend. "Emma, _breathe_. Just breathe, we'll get you there okay?"

She nodded, breathing in and out. Her parents found her when she was already a grown up, but they knew about her anxiety and panic attacks. They knew exactly what to do.

Her mother kept holding her as her father went to grab Henry. He asked his wife to take him to Ruby's house and meet them there. She nodded and went out the door. All Emma could do was keep her mind focused in deep breaths.

Her father took her to the hospital, the drive there filled with reminders that Killian would be okay. He _would_ be fine.

They got there, and Emma ran to the ER. He spoke for her. "Hi, yes, we're here to see Killian Jones? We got a phone call--"

"Ah, yes. Yes, come with me," the nurse passing by interrupted them. They followed her to the end of the hall to the elevator. The ride took forever before they reached the third floor. The nurse rushed with them to the third door at the right and stopped before opening, looking at them, questioning. Emma felt her father nod and she opened the door.

The sight before her made her breath hitch.

Killian, her Killian, a leg in a plaster, body covered in bruises. Killian, laying with his eyes closed, the constant beep of the heart monitor filling the room and making her heart ache. Her Killian, on the edge of life - probably -, and nothing she could do to help.

She ran to his side, hand instinctively reaching for his. At least it was warm. His face was so relaxed... He looked like that when he was asleep, free of any worries and complications. The thought made her smile. She lost the count of the times she just watched him as he slept, thanking heavens he was safe and sound, next to her, nothing harming him.

She squeezed his hand at that thought. He was harmed now. He was hurt. She had never hated ice more than now.

She felt the tears prickle the back of her eyes and didn't hold them back. She felt her father's hand on her shoulder, reassuring her he was there for her. She felt Killian's hand on hers, the calloused palm warm against hers. She felt pain and heartache, tiredness and hope. If she hoped, maybe he would get out of this.

 

* * *

 

"Ms Swan?," she heard her name behind her.

She turned around and met Belle's, the nurse, eyes. A soft smile crept I her lips; she was starting to grow fond of the girl, her state of spirit constantly helpful and understanding. "Belle."

"Come with me, please," she said, slightly breathless.

"Wha-- why?"

The look in her blue eyes said it all, and Emma didn't wait for her as she ran to her fiancée's room. Stopping at the door, her sight was blocked by Doctor Whale and three nurses, and she paced towards the bed, pushing her way through them.

 _Finally_.

After a week, the eyes she had waited to see the whole time were there, bright and blue. It felt as though the world that had been previously on her shoulders was being lifted off her shoulders, an inexpressible relief taking her mind and body. She didn't hesitate before lunging forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. He looked fine enough, she didn't really think of his injuries then; only about his eyes and eyebrows and breathing and skin and body and just _him_.

But all of that relief trembled to a stumble when he gently pulled her arms off his neck, staring right into his eyes. "Lass, what are you doing?"

His voice was soft, but there was something... _Different_.

"Killian?," she frowned. He was still holding her wrists, but there was nothing really affectionate in the grip. The look in his eyes were completely clueless. As if he didn't know... "Killian, it's me. Emma." His expression didn't even flinch. That could only mean... "Please tell me you remember me," she said, her voice trembling with the fear of his answer and the already falling tears.

"Wh-- Love, how do you know my name?," his brow was wrinkled, a confused tone on his features. _No_... "Do we... Do we know each other?"

 _No_.

 _This can't be happening_.

_No, it just can't._

He released her wrists slowly and she retreated one step, then two. He didn't remember her.

Amnesia.

 _No_.

"Killian...," she sounded so small and weak. She felt small and weak. "I don't... I don't understand."

A tiny smirk appeared on his face, as if the situation amused him a tad bit. " _You_ don't understand? _I_ don't understand." He furrowed his brow again, as if her emotions and conflicts were finally reaching him.

She looked at Whale, eyes begging for an answer.

He looked lost and apologising. "I... Emma, he woke up ten minutes ago. His memory might come back--"

"My memory?," Killian interrupted, genuinely annoyed about no one giving him the answers he wanted. "My memory's fine. Where's Liam?"

Emma's heart broke for the billionth time that week. His memory... It was from before Liam's death. How would they tell him, though?

"Mr Jones, as we told you, you've been involved in a car crash and has been unconscious for the past week," Whale explained, turning to face him. "Apparently, the crash made your memories temporarily vanish. Or a part of them," he glanced at Emma, who wasn't even paying a lot of attention, only going over the fact the love of her life and future husband didn't remember her. Not even a single bit of her. And it hurt. So much.

"If there was a car crash, why isn't Liam here? I mean, he's my bloody brother, he _should_ be here," he didn't seem that irritated now, considering the fact he actually seemed happy to have Liam in his life.

How would they tell him?

Whale looked at Emma again, seeking help. But she couldn't give him.

"Mr Jones," she heard Belle's voice, but didn't turn around. "Would you like for me to explain the whole situation or would you like to rest?"

"I slept for a whole week, I'm not bloody tired."

"Okay, then." She walked towards the door as the three nurses and a reluctant Whale left the room, leaving only Emma, Killian and Belle. "Mr Jones, you have a family."

"I do," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. That made Emma's head snap up, a spark of hope lighting inside of her. "My brother."

 _Fffsssss. Dark again_.

"No. I meant you have a new family. According to your records, it's been five years since you last saw your brother. In these five years, you met someone. You fell in love and started a new life. This someone would be your wife in less than three months."

"What do you mean five years? I spoke to him a week ago!," he said, his voice louder.

"No, Mr Jones, you haven't. The car crash provoked amnesia. And your amnesia erased the last five years of your life."

The look in his eyes suddenly turned to panicked. "Where's Liam?"

"He...," Belle started, but paused. Maybe she didn't know how to tell him.

"He died, Killian," she heard her own voice speak, hoarse and just above a whisper. "Five years ago."

She saw the moment he internally broke down. The light in his eyes became dark and the colour left his cheeks. His gaze was lost upon something random and he was gripping the sidebars of the bed so strongly his knuckles were white. She could hear his breath hitch and could feel his pain.

She stepped forward and he looked up at her. He eyed her, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her mouth, her hair; she could see he was trying to remember her, trying to read her in search of something familiar. But the glim didn't come to his eyes. He was lost to her for ever.

Her already shattered heart was destroyed when he sighed and said the words she feared. "I don't know who you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shitty and sad and I'm having feels.


	16. Coincidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a tiny one, posting to ease the ache some of you felt in the last chapter. 
> 
> As for the sequel requests, I don't know if I can make my mind grasp the idea that that would be a full story, since it's mostly turned to the oneshot thing, but I'll warn y'all if something happens.

**Coincidence**

 

She kept bumping into him all the time.

Killian Jones, according to himself at the third time they collided that week ("must me fate, eh, love?"). She never introduced herself, though, always leaving him behind as he asked her name.

Today wasn't any different.

She was walking down one of the streets of sleepy little town called Storybrooke - one of the most retarded name to give a city, in her opinion -, looking at the displays of the stores when she felt a body bump into hers. Before she could apologise and recompose herself, he spoke.

"Ah, Swan, good morning!"

She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Not again..."

"Yes, mine's quite nice too," he answered the question she didn't make and finally let go of her. "Just bumped into a fairly good looking lady for the fifth time _this week_... You could say my days are going quite swimmingly."

"Are you following me?," she asked him, stepping one, two, three steps after realising how close he was standing. It's been two weeks and she already knows he can't grasp the concept of _personal space_.

"Lass, I can be an odd person, but I'm not weird."

"Is that a no?"

He didn't answer. _Creepy bastard_.

She sighed, defeated, knowing arguing wouldn't get her anywhere. She had the day off at the station, but she would like to continue her way down the street in appreciation of her day free of desperate people thinking someone broke into her house when they forgot they had left the door opened, _for example_. "Look, can we just move on and not talk when we certainly bump into each other again?"

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Ooh, already eager to our next encounter, Swan?"

Ugh. She rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "What do I need to do so you stop picking on me?"

"One date," he said, raising a finger.

What. "What?" It was kind of a rhetorical question. 

"Give me one date and I promise, next and the following times we bump into each other, I won't even speak to you."

That could be something. She analysed the pros and cons. Pros, she wouldn't have to speak to the devilishly handsome pirate - in his own words, the second time ever they met - every time they bumped - she ignored a part of her brain saying she could actually _enjoy_  the date. _Nope. That wouldn't happen_ -. Cons, she would be stuck with him in a room for probably two hours.

_What's the harm?_

"Fine," she finally said. She could basically see his ears perk up as a genuine smile took place of the smirk. " _One date_. Then you leave me alone."

She wrote her number on a piece of paper - "that's old-fashioned even for me, love." - and gave it to him.

He stared at it, smile still on his face, as then looked up, smirk back on, with one of the sexiest looks she had ever seen - _stop it, Emma_ -. "See you tonight."

Barely did she know that, when he said 'never speak when we bump', he meant they wouldn't bump, since they would be walking together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 11 am and I wrote this while still laying in my bed what is my life
> 
> By the way, I need prompts for my next CS oneshot collection! Send me yours at an-internet-friend.tumblr.com please, thank you.


	17. Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block sucks.

**Train**

 

"So, Swan," he said, flopping down next to her. She didn't look up from her phone, even though whatever the hell she was doing before no longer interested her. "What are we going to do for the next hour?"

Emma and Killian had been travelling across Europe with other three friends, when the others decided to go to Switzerland. It wasn't part of their travelling plan, so, the both of them, being the only ones against the new planning, set off to their previous destination - good old France - and left the three be happy with their chocolate and icy mountains.

Killian and Emma had been friends for over two years now. She met him through her brother David - the head of the Switzerland group -. They were friends since college and it was time for Killian to meet Dave's little sister.

Honestly, she couldn't stand him at first. He was insufferably flirty with _every_ woman around him and a hugely smug bastard. He still was, actually, but she learned to deal with it through time. To be fair, he was nicer to her now.

She looked up and narrowed her eyes. "Why do I feel an innuendo coming?," she said, wryly.

He shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he shifted on his seat to face the back of the chairs in front of them. "You just know me too well," he said, amusement in his voice.

"I don't know," she replied his earlier question. "Any suggestions?"

"We could...," he started, heaving a sigh. "Count the trees?"

She looked out the window. The summer was close, so the landscape was all green and beautiful. The fields had few trees, so she guessed it wasn't a bad idea.

"Okay..."

"I was joking, Swan, we are _not_ counting the trees."

She couldn't help but smile.

"You should keep it, you know?," he said after some time. She looked at him, a questioning look in her eyes. "The smile," he clarified, a smile of his own appearing. It was a different kind of smile. It wasn't the usual smirk, nor the frequent grin. It was a genuine and soft smile. She liked that smile, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself. She automatically smiled back and realised how they sometimes just did that. Stared. _Gazed_.

She couldn't deny it was a hell of a sight. Mop of black hair on top of a handsome stubbled face, bright cerulean eyes catching anyone's attention. She liked his eyes, too. She could always lose herself in the--

"Swan?," he called softly, and she realised how close they had gotten in the moment she drifted off. He was whispering, and she could feel a slight bit of his warm breath on her cheek. "Would you kill me if I tried to kiss you right now?"

She should have laughed. She _would_ have laughed, under any other circumstances. She would have rolled her eyes and pushed him away, blushing in embarrassment.

But she didn't; she did the exact opposite, actually. She leapt forward, catching his lips on hers.

She didn't really think about it, so the first seconds were pure bliss. It was more tender than she thought it would be - his hand coming to slide up her back and place itself between her shoulder-blades; her own hands hugging him, pulling him closer.

It was only when he sighted - in relief, maybe? - that she realised what she was doing.

She was kissing him. Killian. Her big brother's best friend. Her male best friend, if she was going to be honest. She was doing something inexplicably remarkable in their relationship and a big part of her didn't even _care_.

She quickly analysed the situation. It was going to make David angry, yes, but he should have known this was bound to happen, sooner it later. She didn't know if her friends would approve or not - not that she cared -; they all liked Killian, as they had overcame the previous ' _I can't stand him_ ' stage everyone in the group'd been through, but would they think Killian be good to Emma? Mary Margaret, Ruby and a couple of others knew her previous romantic cases and abominated every one - except for Graham; he couldn't be the blamed for his own heart attack -, so they also knew how hard it was for her to get into a relationship. Maybe if they noticed how she was leaping into it, they wouldn't think of it as a bad idea.

She ended her internal debate when he slowly pulled back, resting his forehead on hers.

She looked up at his eyes when he spoke up in a husky voice, slightly breathless - _that_ made her blush even more. "That was..."

"Hopefully--"

"Not a one-time thing?," he said, gazing into her eyes, eternal smirk back on.

"Yeah," she replied, before diving in again.

And she was right in the end: her friends did approve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the weakest I am so sorry


	18. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS ONE'S SO BIG, I'm actually impressed. 
> 
> I loved writing this one, made me all feelsy and teary.

**Reunion**

 

When she entered the grocery store, she did _not_ expect to find him. _Anyone_ but him. Neal.

"Emma?," she heard the too-feared voice behind her as she chose which cereal to take. She stilled and her expression went blank. She certainly didn't expect it. "Emma, is that you? It's me, Neal."

' _No shit_ ', she wanted to snap. After a decade, she had leaned to burry him deep inside her brain, in a locked away chest, behind her so-tall walls. She had learned to deal with the memories. She had learned to move on.

But when the reason she went to jail and had to give up her own baby appeared in front of her after all this time, she froze. She couldn't think, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move.

She then heard footsteps at her left. "Emma, love," another voice said, and that, for some reason, pulled her out of her haze. She looked up at the man next to her and quickly took his appearances: black hair, blue eyes, surprisingly ginger-ish scruff and a handsome face. Something about him looked familiar... "I found the milk," he smiled, holding up a carton. _The smile._ She remembered. Oh, so vaguely...

"Killian...," she breathed, relieved that Neal was drifting away from her mind, as it was now completely focused on her long lost - and only - childhood friend. _Killian Jones_. The same always-handsome 13 year-old she used to spend her mornings and afternoons with for nearly two years. The same sweet boy that accepted her into his life, even though she was that weird adopted kid with the too-big eyes and thick glasses. The same boy that was ripped from her life by the foster system. The same boy she cried about for fourteen nights before she accepted she would never see him again.

However, he didn't move to hug her or held out his hand or did whatever you do when you reencounter an important person after _thirteen years_ , he just stood there. But she saw how he widened his eyes for a second, his look saying something she comprehended after a moment: ' _follow the lead_ '.

"Yes, finally," she said, slightly nodding, signing she got it. "Where was it?"

"Two aisles ahead," he said with a smile, pointing. "Got the cereal?"

"Um...," she hesitated, the memory of a highly confused Neal still standing there attacking her again. She looked down at the two boxes in her hands. "I'm between these two."

He eyed Neal with a suspicious look and turned his gaze to the cereal. "Right hand," he concluded. She nodded, doing her best to ignore how weird and ridiculous this situation was. Thankfully for her, her years as a thief did well to her acting skills.

She put the other cereal on the shelf and the chosen one on the basket Killian - oh, how she missed him - was holding out. "Anything else?" _Try to look natural, Emma._

"No," he replied. He then held out a hand. "Shall we?"

She lingered her look his hand for a second or two before she took it. The odd yet _familiar_ jolt travelled up her arm into her spine. That had always happened when they touched in middle school; was it when he held her hand, or when she smacked him, or when he got in a fight and she helped him patch up. She had missed _him_ \- his touch, his presence, his scent, his support.

He tugged her through the various aisles until they reached the cashier's counter. They were still ' _in character_ ' because both could feel Neal's eyes still on them. Soft smiles and an easiness filled the time they were checking the items. It was incredibly hard for her, though - all she wanted to do was hug him and breathe him in and talk to him and catch up and _explain_ why she didn't return the next day or contact him.

They walked outside and went to the parking lot. When they finally saw Neal walk out the door to the street and then disappear around the corner, she dropped the bags she was holding and jumped to Killian. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her face nuzzling his neck, she felt his own arms wrap around her body, pulling her even closer. She had _definitely_ missed him.

" _Emma_ ," the name fell from his lips like a prayer. She chuckled lightly in relief as she felt the tears prickle behind her eyes - she was not the crying type, but she had been convinced she was falling in love with her best friend when she was taken to another foster home, three states away. " _Gods_ , where have you been?"

They were still holding each other, and she pressed her face even further into his neck when a choked sob left her mouth. "Killian, I--"

"Shh," he soothed her, his hand travelling up and down her back. "Don't cry, lass."

She breathed in deeply, partly to calm herself, partly to finally feel his scent, after _so many years._ After a minute, she finally settled down, her breathing even and her heart beating only strong, the fast pace previously there vanished. "They moved me," she spoke, her voice weak and soft.

"Who?," he was being so gentle, so caring; she remembered how she longed it when she moved from foster home to foster home, state to state, always ditched and left out. Always unwanted, always _unloved_.

"The foster system," she answered, finally pulling back, sniffling, and gazing up to his blue-blue eyes. "They moved me to Minnesota."

"Minnesota?," he was clearly surprised.

She nodded, a soft smile placing on her lips. "It was so sudden... I cried for two weeks."

" _Two weeks_?," he repeated again. His voice was weak, as if he thought it was his fault. Maybe it was. Well, not exactly his fault, but he was definitely the reason.

"It wasn't really easy," she continued, strong enough to completely pull back and pick up the bags. He had dropped two of his, one still clutched in one hand. "I kept bouncing around until I just got tired and ran away."

He chuckled. "I don't doubt it, Swan."

She smiled. He knew how much she hated foster system and she wasn't really secretive about the fact that she _did_ want to run away. Barely did he know she didn't do it because of him. "And, back then, the money was absolutely none, just a few pennies and my bag with some clothes and stuff."

He fished his own bags and they started to walk towards the street. It was a quiet neighbourhood, the streets calm and peaceful. They were heading to her house, a few blocks away.

"I got into thievery," she confessed quickly, knowing he wouldn't judge her. "That's where I met the fella that just left."

"The weird man with the longing look?"

She laughed. "Yeah, that one. His name's Neal. I stole a car," his eyebrows shot up at that, but she moved on. "and he was sleeping in the backseat. I later found out he had stolen the car too, and I was baffled by the fact that I had stolen a stolen car."

He chuckled. "Quite disturbing."

"And we... Fell in love, let's say it like that. But it was complicated, since we both had less money than needed and lived on the run. We were planning on settling down when he finally figured a way. He had stolen some watches from a job a few years prior and they were still in a locker somewhere. But he couldn't grab them because he was kind of wanted. So I went."

" _Swan_ \--"

"I went and I got the watches. But he was an asshole and, instead of meeting me at the place we agreed, he sent a cop," she finalised, finally looking up at him, to find him staring down at her, a sad look on his face. But it wasn't pitying. It was _genuinely_ sad, as if he felt what she had felt that day.

"So the cop got you and you went to jail," it wasn't a question.

She nodded. "That was when I found out I was pregnant."

"You have a child?," he asked, stopping on his tracks.

"I _had_. Gave him up to adoption."

He gazed at her eyes and suddenly stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her once more. "I'm sorry, Swan."

"It's okay," she said as he pulled back and they started walking again. "I got a notice he was adopted by a single mother two weeks later. At least he didn't go through the hell I went."

They fell into a comfortable smile. Her mind drifted off to her teenage memories - the discovery of new feelings for a certain blue-eyed boy, the disappointment at a failed test and the sudden happiness at said blue-eyed's soothing - and she found the corners of her mouth slightly tugged up at the thoughts.

They turned around a corner and reached her street. Three houses ahead and they would be separated. She was lucky she was able to move to a safe, peaceful neighbourhood as this one, free of buildings and grey walls. It was all houses. Houses and front yards and trees and children running on the street. She had reached a new level of happiness.

Until she found him half an hour prior. _Nothing_ would master that.

"Well," she spoke up, breaking the silence as she stopped in front of her house. "This is me."

She watched as various emotions flickered across his face: confusion, disbelief, astonishment, acceptance, happiness and cheerfulness. "No way."

"What?"

"I thought we were heading my house."

"And...?"

"That's my house," he said, pointing at the house next to hers. _No way indeed_. Her eyes widened and she took in the fact. She knew that house was for sale, and she also knew the newcomer was moving in some time that week, but _Killian_? _Really_? Would heavens _finally_ let her as happy as she could get?

She couldn't utter the words out of her mouth so she did something she was wishing to do since she was 14.

She dropped the bags once more as she leapt forward and caught his lips with hers. They were softer than she imagined, and moved almost instantly after they met. Her hand travelled from the back of his neck to the side of his face, cupping his jaw as he placed his hands on her back. The heat of his body was reaching her skin even under her jacket, making her pull him even further onto her. She couldn't stop the sigh that left her when she felt his tongue sweep over her bottom lip, head instantly tilting to deepen the kiss.

When breathing properly became a struggle, she pulled back, the low whimper that left his mouth making her giggle lightly. She rested her forehead against his, panting, and closed her eyes again when he leaned in one more, placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth; then again, on her cheek, on her nose, on her mouth again. They sighed in unison as they enjoyed each other's warmth, her hands gently holding the lapels of his coat and his arms shielding her from the oncoming winter cold.

When he sighed for one last time and nuzzled her cheek, he spoke in a whisper. "Do you want to come in and have a hot cocoa?"

She grinned, remembering the cold afternoon spent at the coffee place two blocks away from the school, filled with chocolate and cinnamon and _Killian_. "Yeah, I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a sudden crave for childhood friends CS and I read like 20 of them and this came out. When I first saw the prompt ("Reunion") I thought of High School Reunion even and exes who never stopped loving each other. And then, BOOM, this appeared. Oh well.


	19. Costume Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so lost about this one, I wrote it fragment by fragment. I don't know here I am, jc. 
> 
> Anyways, GUYS CHAPTER 19. Next one'll be as fluffy as possible - I'll try my best, have a degree in Fluff - and it'll be the last one *sobs in the corner*
> 
> Hey hey, a bit more attention to the T rating on this one. You'll just know why - I've read too much smut this weekend, and I don't feel like changing the whole story's rating just because of a crave. So I did my best.

**Costume Party**

 

Ruby chose her costume. She couldn't complain.

As her best friend pulled the last strands of blonde hair into the buns placed on the sides of her head, she took her image in. The person in the mirror was a weird mix of Emma and Princess Leia.

Ruby was dressed as Little Red Riding Hood - and Emma was happy to see it wasn't one of the slutty ones, it was an actual long dress with an actual long cape. Well done, Ruby - and she said her boyfriend would go as Doctor Frankenstein. She guessed it made sense: his name was Victor and he was a real doctor.

But she had no clue about Emma's costume. Why had Ruby chosen Princess Leia? That was a weirdly random thought.

"I don't know," she had answered a week prior when Emma asked her the same question. "I saw it at the store and remembered you. I don't even know why." Emma just shrugged and accepted it.

And now they were getting ready to a party where Emma didn't know anyone. Even Ruby knew only a few people, her friends being friends with other people and so it goes on.

Once in the car, Emma struggled not to be nervous. It would be her first real party in a long time, and it was a freaking costume party. The only one she remembers is the one she went when she was 14, dressed as an archer. When people had questioned which archer, she just said an archer. She had been just a random archer and people wouldn't accept that. Since then, she didn't really like costume parties anymore.

But Ruby somehow convinced her and there they were, arriving at the so talked damn party.

The first thing Emma noticed was how not-as-full-as-she-thought-it-would-be it was. There were quite a lot of people, but it wasn't crowded enough for her to touch people as she walked across the dance floor, for example. It was empty enough that she could see each and everyone's faces.

They were sat at the bar when Ruby's gasp startled her. "Oh my God!"

"What is it?"

"I just saw a Han Solo," she squealed. "And he's extremely hot!"

Emma couldn't help but feel curious. "How is he?"

"His outfit's downright perfect; the shirt, the vest, the pants an belt, even the damn gun, that bastard," the red hooded listed. "His face looks like it was carved by angels, I can see the blue eyes from here."

Emma rolled at her friend's state of fangirling. "Does he look nice?"

"He looks sinful--"

"No, Ruby, personality."

She scoffed. "Honestly, Emma, do you really care about his personality?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm nearly thirty and would like to be in better relationships than one night stands," she took a sip from her drink. "You can't say a thing; your relationship with Victor's perfect."

"Yeah, speaking of which, where is my doctor?"

"Here, Red," they heard the blonde man's voice from the stool at Ruby's other side. Emma had to bite back her laugh: he was wearing the high-collared white jacket, pointy black gloves, hair sticked up everywhere and round, mad scientists glasses. He had a defeated look on his face, which clearly said Ruby picked his outfit too.

"Hi, Vic!," the brunette greeted and pecked her boyfriend's lips. "Come, let's dance," she added, tugging at his hand. They moved to the dance floor, leaving Emma alone at the bar. She wasn't complaining, though. She had never been a people's person.

"Well Princess, it looks like you managed to keep me here a while longer," a voice at her left startled her. She turned her head to find out Han Solo next to her, and damn, Ruby was right. He was a god.

She managed to raise an eyebrow. "Are you actually quoting the movie?," she snarked, hoping his way-too-close self wouldn't notice the blush coming to her cheeks.

"Just taking the costume seriously," he replied, raising both hands in defeat. Then, he held out one of them. "Han Solo."

She chuckled despite of herself and took it. "Princess Leia." She glanced over his shoulder at her grinning friend at the dance floor, thumbs up in an encouraging sign. She noticed the songs were getting slower and her ears thanked for that - they were pulsing along with the frantic beat of the electronic music, now changed to light 90's pop. That was a drastic change, in her opinion.

After a minute or so, he held out his hand again. "Would you care for a dance, your Worshipfulness?"

She stared at his hand before gazing back at his blue eyes. "I don't dance."

"That's a pity, it would be an interesting sight," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you flirting, pirate?," she asked, turning on the stool to fully face him.

He smirked, leaning in an inch. "I sure am."

The time passed, they talked and the party became slower. Nearly half of the people had already left, leaving the place even more empty. She could still see Ruby and Victor glued to each other in a slow dance, but she wasn't sure they would warn her when they left.

She glanced at the clock behind the bar: 1 AM. She had been there for nearly four hours and nothing had happened. Well, nothing relevant, besides the approach of the space pirate. They had been casually talking since he got there, getting to know each other, and she was actually enjoying she wasn't completely alone.

He asked her about her life and, alcohol taking the wheel, she told him about the foster system and how long she had been there. In reply, he told her about the loss of his beloved brother and the abandonment of his father. He asked her about her love life, she told him about the jackass she met ten years prior. In exchange, he told her about a girl called Milah, and how he had lost her for the hands of her ex-husband. She wouldn't admit it, but she felt both sad and angry. Why would anyone want to do that to someone?

"So, Swan." He had gotten the habit to call her that. She liked it, for some reason. More than she would like to admit. "We've already exchanged facts about our lives. What would you suggest we do now?"

We could always make-out.

Wait, what? A part of her mind - her whole being, to be honest - was already a tad bit drunk. She could easily blame the alcohol, but was that it?

Well, he was unfairly good-looking, she was even swooning a bit. But, after four hours of talk, she noticed his personality was also different than the other unfairly good-looking men she had the unpleasure to encounter through her life. He seemed to be honest, he was funny - witty, better said -, charming and had a weird passion for fancy words, which matched perfectly to the Irish accent he had, making any woman melt inside. Yes, including Emma. It was a relief she could keep a nice conversation for longer than two minutes.

"I don't know," she answered, unconsciously leaning towards him. She should have known he would do the same if she did it.

She indeed noticed how close they were now, and she would have pulled back, but, hey, it's a party, it late and there's plenty alcohol in her system, so screw it. He seemed to think the same thing when she felt his fingers ghost over her forearm on the bar.

"I am well aware of your self-protecting instinct right now, your Worshipfulness, but would you mind if a goodly enough drunk space pirate did something to you?"

She looked up at his eyes - so close right now, Jesus - under hooded lashes and smirked. "That depends on what the something means."

He leaned in then, and she could feel his breath on her neck, making her shiver and her eyelids flutter. "You'll just have to wait and see," was his only reply, his voice so close to her ear - what it could, at least, the buns were not helping at all - and she couldn't help but squeeze his arm where her hand previously rested on. He took that as an encouragement - she just guessed it was. What's the harm? - and she could feel the soft press of his lips on the skin just below her earlobe. The contact made her lean even further, his touch becoming more sure and precise. Though a tiny part of her mind was screaming for her to stop, to listen the reason, to think about why she was doing, but her whole being went to a near numb state when his fingers hooked on her gun compartment and puller her closer.

His kisses were still on her neck, occasionally going up to her jaw and cheek, but keeping focused on the patch of skin showing under the white collar that covered almost all of her neck. May it be damned.

Maybe it was just want, maybe it was the automatic pull she had felt when he first sat there, she didn't wait long before burying her hands on the lapels of the brown opened vest and pulling him towards her, lips crashing over his and a sight of relief escaping her mouth. He tasted like rum and mint and smelled like the sea. She felt one of his hands come up her thigh - which made her moan into the kiss - and rest on her waist. The other one made it's way up her arm to the back if her neck, massaging the nape of it, making her relax even more. Okay, the bastard had her. One of her hands squirmed its way to his stubbled jaw, scraping her nails across it in slow motions.

The kiss wasn't hungry or wanting, to her surprise. It was more a lazy and tired kind of drunk kiss. It was slow and steady and made her heart beat faster than a train - she couldn't help it.

After they pulled back a minute or so later, she looked around, noticing the lack of a red cape mingled to a white jacket and assumed her friends had left her. Can't complain, though, she thought as she dove in again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neck kisses started it all because I want need CS neck kisses. We've had gracious Outlaw Queen implied sex, we can have our coffee grinding, right? I hope so, last episode killed me entirely, I'll have to wait two weeks for the next one along with the fandom and we'll suffer ehey


	20. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys gUYS LAST CHAPTER. 
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for reading, you have no idea how much all of this made me happy. The reviews, the kudos, the bookmarks, the hits, guys, the hITS. I can't believe this had so much repercussion and I am so happy I decided to post it. Once again, thank you all so much and here's a fluffy chapter to say goodbye.

**Christmas**

 

It didn't make sense. It was supposed to go there.

Emma groaned and tossed away the instructions. She glared at the bottom half of her newly _half-built_ Christmas tree. The pieces weren't fitting. And it was Christmas Eve. And she was getting stressed.

She wanted to prove her dear friend _Killy_ she could set a tree without manly help. She was failing miserably.

She thought about calling Ruby, keeping the ' _girl power_ ' motto on, but she doubted her friend's hunting skills could mean anything at all about setting a freaking Christmas tree. She hated the thing already.

She got up and paced around it, pondering what she could do without throwing the pieces out of the window out of frustration. She could do it. She could _definitely_ do it. How harder could that become?

She snorted. _Killian would make an innuendo at that thought_. And then she stiffened. _Killian_. She glanced at the clock and noticed he would be there in half an hour. She could _not_ set a Christmas tree within half an hour. She groaned again and dropped herself on the couch. She gave up. Straightening herself partially, she turned the TV on and gave absolutely no damn.

 

* * *

 

"Swan?," he called as he opened the door. "You home?"

He didn't hear a response, so he sauntered into the living room. The first thing he noticed was the unfinished tree near the kitchen counter. A smirk crept to his lips: he knew she wouldn't do it. He then noticed the numb form splayed across the sofa and the flashes and low noises coming from the TV. He shook his head and scoffed amusedly. She gave up before she reached the _half_ of it, and that delighted him. She owed him twenty dollars, after all.

"Swan?," he called again, taking a small step towards her. He was facing the back of the couch, but he could see her blonde hair on the armrest. He walked around it and kneeled in front of her. She was deep in her sleep. She was also quite beautiful. " _Swan_ ," he whispered. She stirred a bit and a strand of hair fell on her face. "You didn't finish it," he laughed quietly.

She shifted again and mumbled something that sounded a lot like " _Piss off,_ " which made him raise an eyebrow. His hand automatically stretched out and carefully removed the fallen strand, putting it behind her ear. He snapped his hand back and sat on the floor.

He couldn't. He had been fighting over this for the past year. The only people who knew about it were _her_ best friend Ruby, Liam and, obviously, Robin. Ruby sensed it three weeks after it started. ' _The pheromones, I can_ smell _them_ ' was her graceful reply. Liam figured it out after that trip the two of them had made, where Killian skyped her every night they were away and was the first one to be told when they were back. Killian told Robin after he couldn't take it anymore and needed a _male_ friend's opinion on that. No one else knew. Ruby called it a 'crush'.

He stood up and looked around. _Distraction, aye?_

He wandered to the tree and saw the thrown away manual a few feet away. Chuckling, he picked it up and flicked through it. It wasn't _that_  complicated, really.

Sitting down, he took piece 4 in his hands and clang it to piece 5.

 

* * *

 

She woke up to the sound of a mumbled " _Bloody hell..._ ". Opening one eye, she saw the TV was still on. Maybe it was from a random TV show. Shrugging and shifting into a more comfortable position, she closed her eye again and sighed. That was when she heard the growled " _Would it be too much to just fit, piece number 8_?" and her eyes snapped open.

Sitting up, she looked around and saw the mop of black and the hunched back. Sitting on the floor with crossed legs was Killian, fumbling with something she couldn't see.

Getting up from the couch, she paced towards him and sat beside him. He was so focused on what he was doing - trying to connect two branches to one of the three main stands. It wasn't fitting and se secretly laughed at that -, he didn't even realise she was next to him until she spoke up.

"Try piece 9."

His whole body jerked away from her, and he let go of the pieces. "Bloody hell, Swan," he pressed his hand to his chest. "You don't have to kill me now, wait until January."

She noticed he was wearing an _eyepatch_ \- she recognised if from her decorations box. She had thrown it there after a Christmas costume party and never took it out. _Oh well_ -. She laughed and grabbed the three pieces. Replacing number 8 for number 9, they fit perfectly and she handed it to him with a fairly shit-eating grin.

"Thank you, love, you've succeeded at _one_ part on the project of the setting it up."

She glared at him and properly eyed the tree. It was almost complete now, the only and most important details being the decorations in general.

She glanced at him, impressed, and he just shrugged. "You were out for a good hour," he said almost timidly. "I could use the time."

He wasn't even doing it for that bet of theirs. He was actually just trying to help her and that warmed her heart more than it should.

She had to admit it wasn't being easy to _not_ like him _that_ way. Besides his unfairly good looks - raven hair, bluest of blue eyes, stubbled handsome face and the most attractive torso she had ever see in real life -, his personality certainly did not match the ones from the guys she'd met as a bail bondswoman. He was sweet - when he willed - and witty and just amazing to his friends; including Emma. He was that kind of person who is just there for her all the time, and nothing could make her happier about their current relationship.

Unless, of course, the faint possibility of something _real_ happening to them. Romantically. Every time she thought about it, she shivered. Not only because she was sometimes _dying_ to feel his lips on hers and her body pressed closely to his; but because she was also dying to feel his hand grasp hers during a casual walk, or to lean against him at some point at the day just because she _can_ , or even to have his scent on her pillow and be able to smell it eternally without sounding creepy. She wanted all that and more.

Ruby once told her he would be the perfect boyfriend for Emma. She disagreed. But, deep down, she knew the red lipped was right. Not even _that_ deep, to be honest.

"Swan?"

He had asked her a question and her name snapped her out of her haze. She shook her head quickly. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow, and she realised she had been staring intently at him this whole time. _Crap_. He chuckled lightly. "Enjoy the view?"

She furrowed her brow. He was a ridiculous smug she was actually attracted to. _Of course_. Rolling her eyes, she got up and grabbed the decorations box. "Time to really get tired, _pirate_."

 

* * *

 

 

They fell against the wall, sliding to the ground, backs aching and arms tired. They had been putting the decorations for over an hour and she never knew Christmas would be so _tiring_.

It was already 6 o'clock and dinner at Mary Margaret and David's started at 8. At least _one part_ of the Christmas spirit was actually done.

"That was ridiculously exhausting," Killian said, eliciting a tired laugh from Emma.

"True," she nodded, stretching her arms in front of her.

She felt Killian stretch his back beside her and the lights suddenly went out. She was staring to despair for a moment before she realised they were sitting directly under the light shift. He had just turned them off. When she looked back down, she understood why.

The tree was all lightened up by the colourful Christmas lights around it. The lights were blinking in different colours and times and it was beautiful; the way they were shining and how the colours danced around the room.

" _Wow_ ," she breathed. It was quite a sight.

She turned her look to Killian and almost _swooned_ at the way he was looking at her. It was an odd look, that would make anyone swoon, actually, but Emma just felt different. She felt... Special? Better? Maybe. She just felt _different_.

It looked like they were on a romantic comedy movie, and this would be the part where the attractive friends that were attracted to each other kissed for the first time and everything changed. _It really would be a great place for a kiss_.

"You know," he spoke, his voice soft, as if he didn't want to disturb the quiet in the room. He glanced down at his hands and then he looked at her eyes under his lashes. "I think we did a good job. These lights are really incredible."

 _You're incredible_.

_Wait. What?_

_Calm down, Emma_.

And then he was leaning in. And she didn't know what to do. She felt the light press of his lips on hers and that just melted her away. Giving up to the backing away sense, she relaxed and felt her hand come up to cup his jaw. He looked hesitating before, but now, after sensing her quiet approval of the gesture, snaked his hand around her waist and rested it on her back, pulling her towards him. She was glad to oblige his request. Putting her other hand on his shoulder, she felt him tilt his head a slight bit and press her even more against him.

It felt so sweet and tender and full of relief and gentle, his scent enveloping her and making her sigh into the kiss.

Maybe she dreamed it, maybe not, but she swore she could feel his smile against her lips at some point.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, when David answered the door, their fingers were entwined and she thought it was quite odd no one made any comments about it. But she did see Ruby send them a knowing and downright wolfish grin from the other side of the room. 

After the dinner, all of them dispersed themselves around the big house: David and Mary Margaret stood at one corner, cooing a fussy baby of their own; Ruby, Victor and Jefferson at the living room, the three of them deep in a conversation that involved loads of gestures and faces; Belle and Mr Gold - Emma still needed to call that man by his name, she just couldn't do it - were at another corner, Belle doing most of the talking and Gold just listening, a loving look on his face; Grumpy and Granny were at the kitchen counter, two big glasses of wine in their hands, Regina and Robin doing their best to not jump at each other and do something weird right then, and Killian and Emma at the balcony, a quiet place for quiet moments.

He was standing behind her, arms around her body and head resting on her shoulder. Her eyes were closed; she was enjoying the cold breeze and the smell of the forest and his smell and _him_.

Snuggling further into him, she sighed. It was _definitely_ Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've planned this story since the beginning of the posting jfc
> 
> So, I simply LOVED writing this and it was my first REAL experience as an author and I absolutely loved it as would like to do more. Is like to ask all of you Tumblr obsessed like meself to leave prompts for my next one! Not really on the mood to do another list, even it I already have it completed. It narrows the experience so much, I'd like to make it different. 
> 
> Anyways, there IS going to be a new CS oneshot collection - in my impossibility of creating something concrete and long, that's the only choice - in a future not that far. 
> 
> See y'all soon.


	21. College

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can play with this once in a while, right?
> 
> The angst is making me sad, sad makes me write, write makes me post. Eep.

**College**

 

"Emma, it'll be fun!"

"A _museum_?," the blonde retorted. "Seriously? You've done better, Mary Margaret." 

"But you need it," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, _you and David_ need it. And Ruby. And Jones."

With a defeated sigh, the brunette plopped on the bed next to Emma. "You're gonna like it, it's about the town!"

"What I'll need to know when I finish college is the town's records, not how it came to be."

"Storybrooke has an interesting start!"

"Storybrooke is _boring_..."

Exhaling an exasperated breath, Mary Margaret got up and walked to the door. Before leaving, she looked back at Emma and narrowed her eyes.

"Be ready at five," and just left.

Stuffing her groan on a pillow, she held it on her face for a while before getting up again.

 

* * *

  

"Are you as excited as I am for this?," Killian muttered as he came to walk beside her, the upcoming boredom already showing in his voice. She was glad to know she wasn't the only one who just didn't want to be there.

She snorted and crossed her arms, looking down at the pebble she'd been kicking as she walked. " _Totally_."

He quietly chuckled and they fell in silence. They could hear the Group of Excitement behind them, talking about the upgrades the museum had made in its structure and couldn't help but groan. How did they manage to enjoy that?

"How can they be so cheerful and happy towards school related stuff?," she transmitted her thoughts, earning a shrug from him.

"Maybe they fell from their cribs when they were babies and the effects started now?," he joked, softly bumping his shoulder with hers.

She laughed. "Yeah, maybe. Why did you come, again?," she asked, looking up into his way-too-blue eyes. She had always liked his eyes. And his jaw. And his face.

"Because Dave wouldn't stop picking on me," he answered, shooting a glare over his shoulder at her brother behind them. "And because I need it, as he well put when he invited me this morning. History's not that easy as it sounds, and I may need to teach the town's history. And it'll be good to toss the books aside for a while."

She looked up at him again. "I feel so sorry for you."

"And why are _you_ here, Swan?," he raised an eyebrow.

"Because _Mary Margaret_ wouldn't stop picking on me. Even if I don't need it. She said it would be _fun_."

"It will!," they heard the pixie-haired's comment from where she was walking.

Emma resisted the urge to show her the finger. Apparently the blue-eyed noticed her struggle, as he laughed at her simply pissed off expression.

 

* * *

 

"Why did we get here early?," Ruby asked to no one in particular.

"It'll be crowded once it's opened," David answered. _God_ , he looked like their father. "It's better to get here early before shit goes down."

Emma was pacing around, focused on the ground and the trees she passed by. She heard footsteps next to her and looked up, finding Killian with his stupidly handsome face turned to the ground. He was just pacing too.

According to Mary Margaret, the museum opened at six thirty. They had stopped at a diner for about half an hour to eat something and take off. So that meant they had about an hour to do absolutely nothing. _This is going great._

She stopped behind a parked car, leaning on it as she glanced around. There was _no one_ there yet. They couldn't see the others, as their back was to the entrance of the building, but they could still hear them, excitedly talking about the museum's attractions. _This was a bad idea._

She was drifting off into her own thoughts when a piece of chocolate suddenly appeared in front of her eyes. Furrowing her brow, she looked at Killian at her right and he just shrugged. "We have to do something or I'll die before getting to the door."

She chuckled - he was one of the only people who could make her laugh when she was in a mood - and took the chocolate. She had to suppress a groan of pleasure when she put it in her mouth to find out it was her favourite.

"Is this _Lindt_?," the question left her lips before se could stop it.

With a smirk, he nodded, putting a piece of the brown wonder in his own mouth and offering her the bar. She gladly took it, taking a chunk before giving it back. Her chocolate appreciation haze was interrupted by his quiet laugh.

"What?"

"You get almost sexually aroused by chocolate." He plucked another piece into his mouth. "It's amusing."

Smacking his arm, she ignored him and resumed her eating. Lindt _is heavenly._

"We should go back to them," she said after she finished, lightly wiping her hands on her jeans.

He nodded and put the bar in his pocket. She pushed away from the car and looked up, only to abruptly stop and stiffen. _No_.

Approaching the group, was the person she'd sworn she would hate do the rest of her life. The ultimate bastard. Traitor number one. _Neal Cassidy._

"Swan?," Jones called, his hand on her upper arm, and all she could do was point. He quietly cursed and pulled her back behind the car, both hands on her upper arms now. "Emma, hey, look at me." She finally glanced up, looking into his eyes that looked darker than they actually were due the dim lighting. "He's not going to bother us--"

" _Hey guys!,_ " they heard his voice in the distance, and she could practically see her friends stepping back. At least they hated him as much as she did. Well, not _as_  much. But still.

" _Go away, Neal_ ," Ruby spat.

" _Whoa, easy there, I'm not bothering anyone_."

_Where's his precious Tamara?_

" _You really are_ ," David laughed humourlessly.

" _It's a public place, dude_."

" _Then walk to another part of it._ "

She nearly smiled at her brother's protectiveness over her. She was lost in the blueness of Killian's eyes as she heard the conversation, and it was somehow soothing her, along with the invisible circles his thumb was drawing on her arm. She almost smiled at his worry for her too. _Almost_.

" _Where's Emma?_ "

 _No_.

She turned her head, looking at the group through the car's windows and saw Mary Margaret's head slightly turn towards them, but no one spoke. Alas, Neal was perceptive; he followed her friend's gaze and Emma could see the disgusting smirk forming on his lips as he started to slowly walk towards the car.

 _No_.

"Emma," she heard Killian's light whisper, and she looked at him. He had a doubtful expression over his features, but a determinate one took its place after a second. He glanced up at the approaching form before turning to her again. "Forgive me for what I'm about to do."

And just like that, she saw him launching forward, catching her lips on his. Under normal circumstances, she would have pulled back and walked away with a scowl. But she didn't. Because, when Neal's steps faltered and she heard him freeze in his place, she understood what Killian was doing. She needed to get in the game.

More automatically than for the acting - _oops?_ \- her hands travelled up his arms to his neck, one hand caressing the hair at the nape of his neck and making him sigh - which was maybe real too. _Oh well_ -. His hand was in the small of her back, making her shiver under her leather jacket, and the other was cupping her jaw, his fingers tangled in her hair.

His lips was soft under hers; she could feel his scruff against her skin when she absent-mindedly turned her head to deepen the kiss. One of her hands went to his stubbled jaw, the feeling of the scratch of it on her fingerprints better than she had ever imagined it would feel - yes, _of course_ she had imagined it. Having a hot friend does that to somebody - and she felt him sigh again.

She barely heard Neal - _Neal, who's Neal?_ \- walking away from them and the museum, steps quick and stable.

Apparently, Killian heard him too, because he pulled back, even a bit reluctantly. But she lingered. Of course she lingered. Because now, she saw why she thought he was so attractive, why his personality was ideal - even if a bit annoying - and why she enjoyed his company.

"Swan?," he called softly. "You okay?"

She pulled him to her, in a hug this time, and he squeezed her in a bear hug. _Bear hugs are nice._

"Thank you," she whispered against his neck.

They didn't let go so soon - or was that just her? - and she eventually pulled back, still in his embrace, and he sweetly smiled down at her. She saw fondness in his eyes as he bet down again to peck her cheek. And she could also see surprise when she didn't pull away, but actually leaned into him.

After one or two minutes - who knew? - they finally broke apart and pulled away from the car, getting into her friends' space of sight. They immediately ran to her, her brother enveloping her in a warm embrace and Mary Margaret putting her hand in her shoulder. When he finally let go, Ruby came to her side.

"Are you okay?"

At the blonde's firm nod, everyone relaxed, and other subject mattered to Ruby. A knowing grin settled on her lips as she glanced from Emma to Killian and she raised a questioning eyebrow. Emma have her the ' _nothing happened_ ' look as Mary Margaret looked at the entrance of the museum. The door was opened.

"I thought it only opened at six thirty," she said, frowning.

"Well, you just saw it wrong, it's okay," David, the soothing human, said, kissing her temple. "Come on, let's go in before the rest of the curious population does."

 

* * *

 

No one fooled Ruby. She had sensed the sexual tension between her two friends when they first met, and every moment after that. She knew something had happened behind that car.

 _But maybe it's not a one-time thing,_ she thought. She watched them in the middle of the crowd as Killian's fingers searched Emma's and entwined with the blonde's once they did. She also got the glimpse of a smile in her face.

_Nothing happened, my ass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, SNUGGLY AND HAND HOLDING CS? WORST SPOILER EVER; WE'LL HAVE TO WAIT TIL MARCH 1ST TO SEE IT
> 
> KILL ME.


	22. Fraternal indirect connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back lololol
> 
> I rewatched the scenes with Emma holding Neal in the last couple of episode and it gave me feels. Oh well.

**Fraternal indirect connection**

 

Emma had a crush. And she did _not_ like it.

She had felt a slight twist in her stomach when her toddler brother had come up to her in sixth grade telling her about his new best friend, Liam Jones. She had known his older brother, Killian, for a few years, but never properly spoken to him. But his looks already made her blush, the blue eyes and disheveled black hair made him sort of _irresistible_ for an eleven year-old.

It properly came to be in her freshman year, when she saw him, all leather jacket and confident walk. She had internally swooned and slapped herself; she hadn't been able to admit it was an _actual_ crush by her junior year.

And now here she was, a grown senior, nervous about a party. It wasn't even _his_ party, it was _Liam's_.

Killian himself had invited her to stay when she got there, instead of just dropping Neal off and coming to pick him up at the end.

So she did.

When she rang the doorbell, a miniature size of Prince Charming bouncing next to her - her father's idea - and the present under her arm, all she could think about was what was she going to do during an twelve year-old's costume party.

Killian was the one to answer the door, a cheerful "Come in, lad!" and a calmer "Evening, Swan." right after. She reluctantly entered the house, the party in it's full pace - or, as much as it can be. If a bunch of kids running around in costumes meant full pace -, and followed Killian to the living room, where the kids were concentrated.

Sitting on the couch, she sat next to him and looked around. It was all so noisy and screamy.

"This is what hell looks like," she heard him mumble, and couldn't help but laugh. His face was certainly _not_ amused.

"Come on, I know you were the one to suggest it."

"Yes, but I didn't bloody know it would be so _chaotic_ ," he replied as he glanced around, pained expression on his face.

She snorted. "It's alway chaotic."

With a chuckle of his own, he rested his arm on the back of the couch behind her. She refused to think anyone who looked at them now could see a couple. She _refused_.

If she accepted the fact, it would only make her want more. And she already wanted _enough_.

Her internal battle was interrupted by her ten year-old brother, who materialised himself in front of them, brandishing his plastic sword at the blue eyed. "Surrender, pirate!"

And it was only then she noticed the hook in his left hand and the eyepatch he rolled up his forehead.

He was _Captain Hook_ with an _eyepatch_.

With a grin and a laugh, he pulled the eyepatch to his eye and held out his hook. " _Never_!"

"Release the fair damsel!," Liam came behind Neal, his own sword brandished, sailor uniform making him more adorable than he normally is.

"Damsel?," she raised an eyebrow at the three boys around her.

"You're in distress, aren't you?," Neal asked hopefully. The need to mirror Meg and snap ' _I'm a damsel, I'm in distress. I can handle it_.' was almost to big to restrain.

"Um... Sure." She couldn't stop thinking about how different she was from fairy tales damsels, her leather jacket in her hands, jeans and boots and a long sleeved shirt.

She suppressed a yelp when Killian's arm closed around her shoulders - he was _so warm_ -. "I shan't!"

And just like that, she was being lifted from the couch and being put over his shoulders. The yelp actually came out, followed by a ' _Killian, put me down now or you won't be able to see the sun rise!_ '. She heard the kids laughs and shouts as he took her outside - it was _freezing_ , where was her jacket? - and carefully laid her on the grass of the front yard.

Before she had a chance to compose herself and get up - or glare him -, she was surrounded by dozens of miniature-sized arms and legs. She could see his laughing form and felt the need to revenge.

"Alright, kids, _STOP_!" Some of them actually did, but lost just kept over her. "Okay, after him now."

And just like that, the smile was gone from his face as he was tackled by four or five children and covered by other eight. _How many kids are there in this party, though?_

She could make out the muffled screams for help and ' _you're gonna regret this, Swan_ ' and stuff like that, but she couldn't help but feel gleeful.

 

* * *

  

Later that night, Liam was talking to some boys when Graham came up to him and nudged his shoulder.

"Who is that?," he pointed at Emma, who was sitting in the couch with Killian again, but there was _something_ different.

"That's Neal's big sister," he pointed at the boy in the other side of the room talking to Alexandra.

"So she's here because of that, or because she's your brother's girlfriend?"

_What?_

"What do you mean?," he asked, his gaze turning to Neal once again and having a silent conversation. _Come here._

"Well, she could be here just because of Neal or because she's your brother's girlfriend, right?," the curly haired said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

When Neal came to stand beside him, Liam shot him a tired glance. _You explain this time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt I thought of was "younger siblings are best friends" but it's too long, so, there. The simple version of the prompt.


	23. Seven Minutes In Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I FOUND A PROMPT LIST. 
> 
> So, because it's a new one, and I don't want to create another story, I'll just put them here. I removed all the prompt numbers in the chapters' names, so it doesn't confuse newcomers, but yeah. Anyways, that means every chapter following this one will be from said prompt list. 
> 
> By the way, tHIS ONE IS SO BIG.

**Seven Minutes In Heaven**

 

"Isn't this extremely childish or old fashioned or whatever?," Emma asked, as they sat down on the floor, all staring at the bottle in the middle of the circle. They _were_ in college, after all.

"We're not playing Spin The Bottle, if that's what you're referring to," Ruby said. "We're playing Seven Minutes In Heaven." At a general groan - except for the questioning looks in Elsa and Anna's faces -, she rolled her eyes. "Come on, guys, this is gonna be fun!"

"It always ends up bad, Ruby," Mary Margaret chirped in, shaking her head.

"Only if the players are stupid! We're not. And we're not even drunk yet."

"I'm gonna regret this," Kristoff furrowed his brow.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what we're playing and would like to, mainly because of the unamused looks in everyone's faces," Elsa said, glancing around at the others.

"Emma, dear, would you make the honour...?," Ruby requested as she played with the bottle in front of her.

With a sigh, the blonde began. "Basically, we spin the bottle. The two people who are chosen have to get in a closet or dark corner and do whatever they want for seven minutes. They can talk, play games, other things beyond that or just nothing." She did _not_ mention the adding more time because she wouldn't like to be stuck in a closet with someone for more than seven minutes. _It's freaking enough_. "It always ends up badly because the people might also fight or do something they'll regret later."

"And _why_ are we playing this?," Anna asked, disbelief on her face.

"Any better ideas?," Ruby muttered.

The ginger kept quiet.

"Okay, then, shall we start?," Killian spoke, making Ruby screech.

"Yes, we shall." And with that, the bottle was placed and span.

They all seemed to hold their breaths as it continued to spin. Finally it came to a stop.

Mary Margaret and Regina.

 _Oh no_.

All eyes widened as they reluctantly got up. Before she fled, Emma grabbed Mary Margaret's wrist. "Don't let her get under your skin."

"I won't." And with a nod, she went into the closet.

It all seemed quiet for the first five minutes.

" _Is it done already?_ ," they heard Regina's voice.

"Two more minutes!," Ruby spoke back, and they could hear both women groan.

It was all peaceful. Until there were 20 seconds to go.

"... _hope you're as unpleased as I am_..."

" _Why do you hate me so much?_ "

" _Are you actually asking?_ "

" _Yes, Regina, I am. Everything you've done toward me has been mean and weirdly evil. I want to know why._ "

Ten seconds.

" _Because you ruined my life_."

" _What?_ "

" _You made Daniel be sent away!_ "

" _I was a child, Regina, I couldn't possibly know it would result something bad!_ "

"Okay, guys, you can come out!," Ruby interrupted them right on time, and Regina stormed out of the closet, passing by them and walking out the door. The few people around them looked at her as she passed and shrugged when she left the house.

"Well, that was intense," Killian murmured next to her, making her snort. _Idiot_.

"Okay...," David said as he approached Mary Margaret and gave her a hug, guiding her to the floor. "Ruby, spin it."

And so she did.

Anna and Hans.

Emma could see the jealousy sparkle in Kristoff's eyes as the two gingers got up and into the closet. They weren't exactly together, Anna and Kristoff, but they acted like they were.

"Okay, do whatever you want," Ruby told them, and they all sat down again, attention turned to the door.

After three or four minutes, something curious started. Were they... Were they _singing_?

Everyone's eyebrows furrowed at the sound of Louis Armstrong's ' _What A Wonderful World_ '. What are they even--

"Couldn't they have picked a better soundtrack?," Kristoff retorted, making all of them chuckle.

"Calm down, mate."

When Louis was gone, he was quickly replaced by Beyoncé.

"They _need_ to calm things in there..."

After Ruby's cellphone buzzed, she called out and they outed the closet laughing.

And then she span the bottle again.

_Oh no._

Emma and Killian.

_Ugh, really?_

She looked up at him, grimacing at his smirk and slowly got up, just in time to see the fatherly _if-you-do-anything-you'll-regret-later-I'll-make-sure-you-do_ look David sent him as they walked toward the closet.

He motioned for her to get in. "After you." Rolling her eyes, she entered. At least it was bigger than she thought it would be. She wasn't chest to chest with him, but they were only far enough so that their boots touched. He closed the door and shifted into a more comfortable position. "Cozy, eh, Swan?"

" _Okay, ready, guys?_ "

"Yeah."

And so she heard Ruby start the counting. What the hell would they do in there?

She suddenly groaned. "I wish I had taken off my jacket, we're gonna _cook_ in here."

"Why, thank you, love."

She managed to smack his chest. "You know what I meant."

"Of course, darling. Now, what shall we do in the next seven minutes?"

"I don't know; any ideas?"

"We could always make out," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

"So am I; I wouldn't despair if I had to kiss you."

"What are you even talking about?," she frowned.

"I'm talking about a challenge, Swan."

"Aren't we in one now?"

"This is a stupid game, not a challenge. I meant a _real_ challenge."

She sighed in defeat. She was going to regret this. "Okay, what is your challenge?"

He thought for a moment, and she could see the moment his eyes lit up, even in the pitch of the closet. "I challenge you to kiss me."

"Are you serious?"

"Never been more."

She raised an eyebrow. She still didn't believe him. "Why would you want that? And what's in it for me?"

"Because it's obvious you're the kind of person I'd be quite fond of," he said as if it really were one of the most obvious things in the world. She ignored how he said 'fond' instead of 'into' or something like that. "And you get to kiss a devilishly handsome person for free."

"Are you referring to yourself?"

"Of _course_ I'm referring to myself," he sounded slightly offended.

Obviously, she would take as long as she could. "I still don't see why I should do it."

"Are you cowarding out, Swan?"

 _Oh no, he didn't_. "I'm not."

"So you'll kiss me."

"I didn't say that."

"That is _exactly_ what you said."

She stared into his eyes, and she could see how nervous he was getting each second passing.

"I'll think about it."

"You will?" He sounded genuinely suspended. _Huh_.

"Only because you declared it a challenge."

"So it has nothing to do with the fact that you're _dying_ to kiss me."

 _Let's fire back._ "I thought you were the one who was dying to kiss me."

His tone suddenly lowered to a more above a whisper. "Oh, trust me, I _am_."

 _Seriously?_ Did that whole phrase really make her shiver? Okay, maybe she was grateful for her jacket.

She swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in her throat, but didn't break eye contact. The part that scared her the most was that her lie detector was silent. It had been silent since they'd gotten in that closet.

Should she? She had always been aware of the twist her stomach suffered when he invaded her person space and the shivers she got when she felt his breath _anywhere_ where her skin was uncovered and the sudden urge to pull him to her when she gazed into the blue infinite in his eyes, but could all of these make her do it now? Maybe they were all effects of his dashing looks or great personality.

 _Maybe they weren't_.

But should she risk it? Would she regret this later?

The voice directly connected to her lie detector screamed _'of course you won't',_ the light in his eyes as he talked to her telling that maybe he wasn't just flirting around. Maybe he could feel something like that too.

_Oh, screw it._

She pulled him to her by the lapels of his leather jacket, catching his lips with hers in a fiery kiss. She could see how taken aback he was, but it was suddenly wiped away as his hand brushed past her shoulder and went to cradle her head, his other arm going around her waist as he pulled her to him as much as she pulled him to her.

She had meant it to be a quick, teasing kiss, but it went much farther. Every time she told herself to stop, to pull back, his tongue flickered over her lower lip as if reading her thoughts, pleading for her to not pull back, and she found herself melting against him again.

When she couldn't find oxygen anymore, she pulled away, but he didn't, making the warmth of his arms inviting and his breath on her cheek tempting. She rested her forehead against his, noses brushing, both breathless, and she could feel the fondness he mentioned in his embrace, the way his thumb drew invisible patterns on the skin of her jaw or the way his nose nudged her cheek, making her eyelids flutter again.

She could feel his scent, something like salt and the sea, but also something sweet, like cinnamon. Her hands still clawed around his lapels, still holding him in place, because, no matter how much she denied it, it felt _right_. It felt like it was the 'meant to be' crap Mary Margaret always told her about.

Their haze was interrupted by Ruby. " _Two minutes, guys!_ "

They've been making out for at least two, and she didn't even see them passing. _What the actual._..

He seemed to snap out of his own cloud of thoughts. He started to pull away, but she tugged on his lapels. "No-- wait."

And she did it again. She kissed him, more sweetly this time, if you're asking; but she did it. For the second time. She could see he was equally surprised, and sensed the moment his brain went ' _what the hell_ ' and he just gave into the kiss.

Her hands finally - _finally_ \- let go of his jacket and went up his neck, one of them curling at the hair on the nape of it and the other one resting over his jaw, thumb unconsciously rubbing the soft scruff on it. She sighed - actually _sighed_ \- into the kiss when she felt his hand on her neck, and shivered again at the feeling of the other one on the small of her back.

She slowly pulled away, knowing it was less than a minute before they got out, and stepped away - as much as she could, her back hitting the wall as soon as she did -, but she felt she should do something. She felt she should give this a shot. After a quick internal debate, she made the decision.

Seeing the disappointed look in his eyes when she pulled back, she made sure to guarantee him she would give this a chance by slowly travelling her hands down his arms and grabbing his hands. It felt more _natural_ than reassuring. That should be a sign.

" _Okay, you can get out now!_ "

Making sure to look presentable, she opened the door and exited the tiny space. Relief took her when the colder air hit her and she sat next to Mary Margaret, the brunette's eyes - all eyes, to be honest - on them as both kept quiet.

"So, Ruby?," she sought her friend's look. "Spin the bottle."

The red lipped frowned, but did it anyway. Emma knew she would be showered with questions later, but for now, she would leave it. For now, she would forget it and concentrate in the others' turn.

She couldn't stop the grin that took her lips every time her gaze met Killian's, though. _Oops, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am and I've been writing this nonstop since 1:30 so I think that's why it's so big.


	24. Meet in a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post three billion multi-chapters fanfictions and now I hate myself. Yay.

**Meet in a Dream (bonus)**

 

The dreams started when Emma was 14. A boy she'd never seen before, dark hair, blue eyes, a bit older than her, just _looking_ at her. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable; quite the contrary, actually. When he looked at her, she felt safe, calm and nearly at _home_. His eyes were warm and inviting, and she sometimes lost herself in them.

They met at various places: a square, a beach, a meadow, a pirate ship - yes -, a castle, the streets, a forest... All kinds of places, all serving as hiding spot and escape from real life.

Every night, she dreamed with him. Every night, she felt at home, just to wake up to the sound of her foster mother yelling at her, back to the painful and bad reality.

As the time passed, he didn't only look at her. She saw how his eyes told her she could tell him her problems and regrets and anything that was disturbing her. And so she did. She relied on him.

She never daydreamed about him, though. She also never _fully_ remembered the dreams the next morning, only the blue eyes under thick dark eyebrows.

She liked the boy. She liked the effect he had on her and how she felt hope when she looked at him. After her 15th birthday and two other foster homes, she found out she not only liked the boy, but felt so attached to him she was sure that, if she ever stopped dreaming about him, she would become hopeless.

She noticed how, through the years, he aged with her, always a year or two older, always there for her when she cried herself to sleep, only to be greeted by his smile and glint in his eyes.

That was how it went until she was 16, when she met Neal Cassidy. She stopped dreaming about the boy she had unconsciously started to love.

After she went to jail, regretful and weak, she saw blue eyes in her dreams, and a tiny spark of hope lighting in her chest every morning she rose. She left jail at the age of 18, and looked for a new start. The boy - now a man - never left her nights, always interrupted her nightmares and soothed her. She managed to to it with his eyes and a touch of his hands; she never even _once_ heard his voice.

She felt as if he was a _real_ person. Somedays, he looked more tired or happier or more annoyed. She tried her best to alleviate him from his apparent problems by talking to him, even though he never answered. But the grateful look he gave her in the end was _always_ worth it.

She had started to ascend in her life, and her talks with - to - him started to become about her day, her dreams and accomplishments, the problems now being one subject of millions.

She had fallen in love with a fruit of her imagination.

 

* * *

 

Killian started to dream about the golden haired girl when he was 16, right after his father had left him and Liam.

She looked as lost as him in the first days, but they grew closer each week that passed.

No matter how much he tried to utter words from is mouth, they never came out, and it was _agonising_. She once mentioned how weird it felt to talk to somebody and know they can _hear_ you, but not _answer_ you. She said she wished he could. Sometimes, he could see she was falling apart, from the problems she told him and the look in her eyes, and he could do nothing to help. He _hated_ it.

Around the time he was 18, when his life was finally getting better, she was gone. Every night, he hopped on his bed, hoping he would meet her emerald eyes once sleep had taken him, but she was never there.

She wasn't there when he broke his arm. She wasn't there when he suffered a car accident. She wasn't there when Liam died. He needed her, and she _wasn't there._

He feared she had died. If not that, he feared he had lost hope. He noticed how much he missed her when he longed for her golden locks, her pink lips or her green eyes.

He loved her. Was she even real, though?

And then she came back.

Around his 20th birthday, he was starting to give up hope completely when he saw her leaning on the railing of their pirate ship. He wanted to shout at her and hug her at the same time, but all he managed to do was to softly touch her shoulder and then her hands.

She had grown. She was nearly a woman now; her face looked more like an adult's one. She was still younger than him, but he didn't give a damn. He loved her and the surprised then tender look that took her eyes when she realised who he was.

He went to bed every night thinking of her and woke up thinking of her. He was always eager to hear her talking when he closed his eyes and sad to leave her when he opened them. He loved her voice, her looks, her personality. He loved her whole being as if she was real and present in his life.

 

* * *

 

The years passed and Killian had never wished she was a real person as now. He had taken the habit of writing notes to her in the notebook on his bedside table, referring to her as ' _Swan_ ' due the swan necklace she seemed to never take off. She had once told him it was a reminder to not trust anybody ever again.

_Morning, Swan. I hope your job hasn't been too tiring, today. You catch those skippers._

_Oi, Swan! You can't just say you don't like coffee and move on to pancakes!_

_Swan, I missed you today. Couldn't sleep because of loud neighbour party and I wished you were here to help me punch him in the face._

_Swan, I spilled cinnamon over the edge of my mug this morning and I apologise for the waste._

_Afternoon, Swan. I hope you're doing alright. Your boy was born today._

_Hello, Swan. I need clothing advice for a conference I'll have later this week. Might be urgent._

_Are you real, Swan?_

He always kept the notebook on his backpack, the one he took everywhere. The notes were a sort of reminder to have _hope_.

 

* * *

 

 

Her day was being _shit_.

After nearly breaking her cranium in an almost fall when she was chasing the skipper, she called he client and told her she couldn't get the guy. She was yelled at - _screw it_ \- and the client  hung up on her face. _Great_.

She had just stopped at Granny's - her favourite New York diner, quiet, tasty, retro - to grab a coffee. She looked down at her takeout bag that contained a doughnut and a package of cinnamon powder for _one second_ , and the next one, she had bumped into someone, making her coffee cup fall from her hand towards the ground. At least the doughnut was safe.

The person's strong hands came to her upper arms to stable her. " _Bloody hell!_ I'm so sorry, lass, I wasn't looking--" She looked up and he stopped, and she was suddenly staring at the same blue eyes she stared at every night. He saw recognition take his features and his breath hitched - so did hers, but whatever, right?. " _Swan_..."

How did he know her name? More importantly, how did he _exist_?! She _made him up_ when things were tough, how could his _very solid_ form be standing right in front of her?

" _You_...," was the only thing she managed to breathe out as both gazed into each other's eyes. His were bluer than in the dreams, and she thought that was impossible. _Apparently not._

He looked around and guided her out of the busy New York sidewalk, entering the park next to them and sitting down at the nearest bench. She was still looking at him in awe - _God_ , he was pretty - and he did pretty much the same.

When she finally realised this wasn't one of her dreams, she furrowed her brow. "But I made you up."

"What?" She only realised he had an accent now, and it didn't help the twists and turns her stomach was making.

"You're not _real_..."

He chuckled. "I'm very much real, love."

She shook her head lightly. " _How_?"

He blinked. "I don't know," he replied, taking in her face again. He looked like he was relishing every second, wanting to keep in memory in case that was only another dream. Or was that her?

Her hand slowly held his, and she looked down at it. It _was_ real, she could feel his calloused palm against hers, warm and solid.

"Is it even possible?," she whispered. She didn't know why she was whispering.

"My brother once told me nothing's impossible...," he said. She could feel the sadness in his words. "So this could be a part of it."

"Have you always lived here?"

"No, I grew up in Ireland and when I was twelve I went to Boston until about two years ago."

"I was in Boston when I was 14..."

"Maybe you got a glance of me? And I got a glance of you? You're _quite_ memorable, to be honest," he said, a small smirk settling on his lips.

A rebel grin came up to hers as she blushed at his compliment. "Is it possible to I have real strong feelings for something you were sure was not real?"

He shrugged. "It happened to me," he answered as if he hadn't just told her he had strong feelings for her.

She felt this natural magnetism between them, as if her body _automatically_ pulled her closer to him, but she didn't trust it had been that magnetism's fault when she threw her arms around his neck, face burrowed on his neck, finally able to inhale his scent - something she had been wanting to do for more than _ten years_ \- and just _feel_ him.

A heartbeat or two was all it took for him to wrap his own arms around her, squeezing her in the best way, and she felt him breathing in her hair. Her grip tightened around him as her thumb unconsciously drew circular patterns on the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

She wanted to cry; not in the bad way though. She felt as if a loved family member had woken up from coma, or as if she had found the best thing in the world after a lifetime of search.

 _Maybe I have_ , she thought, as her fingers scraped his hair. She felt his own tangling in her locks and his sigh at the feel of her nails on his scalp. It felt perfect, and she didn't want to let go. _Ever_.

And so she didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just... Flew out if me, I wrote it so fast and unstop I'm legit scared.


	25. Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SO SORRY. I've just started my vacations - yah, my country's school system's different than yours, Americans - and I'm finally gonna be able to get used to sleeping late again - all this waking up at 6am made me groggy around 12am - and I only find comfort to write when I'm laying on my bed, in the dark, without a trace of sleep in me. So there's that. 
> 
> I want to thank ms camphalfbloodprince because GUYS SHE USHERED ME TO A TUMBLR POST WITH A RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF COLLEGE PROMPTS, so I sorted the ones I liked the most, got them on my notes and PEOPLE. WE'RE REALLY DOING THIS *group high five*

**Help**

 

She turned her head to the side when she sat. He was there, still conscious, but she knew that would change rather quickly. Looking back at the board, she saw Mr Hopper getting up from his desk and writing something on the board.

She didn't know _when_ she started to do this, but one day, she just saw the guy completely out in the back of the room and her heart ached a tiny bit. She had waited a couple of days, trying to see if he would spend at least _one_ of the classes awake, but he would get there, the teacher's voice would lull him to sleep and the bell would wake him up at the end.

She had gotten to her room in the end of the day and copied her notes in another sheet of paper. The next day, _before_ he fell asleep, she nudged his shoulder.

"Here," she offered, holding out the folded paper.

He furrowed his brow, taking it and unfolding it. "What's this?" He had an accent, and was ridiculously gorgeous, even with the dark circles under his tired looking eyes.

She sighed. "Notes. From yesterday's class. You were out during it. _Again_."

She could see the surprise in his eyes, as if he was sure no one cared for a _tiny_ bit of him, then the gratitude, pouring out of the _impossibly_ blue orbs. "Thank you," he spoke in a soft voice, and she couldn't help but smile.

The problem was that he didn't exactly fall asleep deliberately. She could see he always tried to keep awake, but, after about fifteen minutes, he was already out.

That time, only fell asleep around half an hour later.

 

* * *

 

She never looked into who he was, so, later that night, she went into her class's presence list and found him. He looked better on his photo than he did in class, smirk on his _way-too-handsome_ features and a playful look on his eyes. She honestly preferred to see him like _that_ , lacking sleepiness or tiredness.

Killian Jones was his name. He had an accent; she hadn't gotten _where_ from, but he was _definitely_ British.

The next morning, she appeared on class with his notes clasped in one hand and a to-go coffee in the other. Sitting down next to him, she held out the notes, which he took carefully, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"You know, you don't really have to do this," he said, going over them and softly smiling when he realised she was _actually_ doing it.

She shrugged. "I know. But I just felt this weird _urge_ to help you." She took out her notebook and grabbed the coffee. "Speaking of help, here," she held out the cup, nearly laughing at the startled expression on his face. "Never thought of having coffee before?"

"I... Did, but didn't think it would work," he babbled, slowly taking the coffee and sniffing the lid when he opened it. Taking a sip, she could almost see how he already felt a bit awoken, and she was almost sure the coffee was not the motive.

 

* * *

 

 

The weeks passed, and she could see that, though the days, he was sleeping less and less.

She had grown fond of Killian, his snarky comments and endless flirtations settling in his personality and, therefore, their constant talks. She had taken the habit to sit next to him every day and to leave the room beside him.

Even if he was _slightly_ annoying, she could see there was a side of him _anyone_ would like. She saw it when he would occasionally bring her a cup of hot cocoa with cinnamon, when she would unconsciously do something he would like and he would point it out, making her _blush_...

"Say it, Swan," he said one morning. "What time do you leave?"

"At five, why?," she looked up from her phone.

"I was just wondering if you'd like to get some coffee later."

 _What_. "I get coffee every morning, Jones."

Yes, she got he was asking her out. Yes, she wanted it. No, she would _not_ make it awkward.

He let out a short laugh and fully turned to her on his desk. "I'm serious, Swan, I'm asking you to grab a coffee with me when we leave. For real."

She looked at him, taking in his features. Was he telling her the truth? Did he really want to go our with her, Emma Swan, _I-won't-take-your-shit_ kind of person, who would get in a fight if someone annoyed her to _that_ point and who has that weird for being fierce and sassy to whoever deserves it? That was _impressive_.

Not that she didn't want to go out with him. Killian was known for the many dates he had but those were just it. _Dates_. He told her once about this one girl who particularly charmed him, but _left_ him. She didn't mention Neal. She didn't mention how that bastard just _left_ her as well.

Killian Jones had a façade, and she had only once _truly_ seen the man behind it. That one time she brought him coffee, and he mentioned he hadn't eaten in the morning. So she offered him her bear-claw. She saw the gratitude, but also the fall of the smirk and the charm and the entry of the genuine smile and the sweetness. She sort of _adored_ that memory, the way his eyes glinted as he eyed the bag she was handing him, the disbelieving yet cherishing look his face had turned to. She liked that Killian Jones.

And Killian Jones's façade wasn't so bad, either. Well, at least when he wasn't trying to flirt with her like he hadn't done it _five minutes earlier._

It's why she was hesitant. Could that be another one of his charming quips, the same ones she had declined through those weeks? She could see the truth in his eyes, the trace of _hope_ , and that was when she knew he wasn't just flirting around.

So she accepted it. And eagerly waited for it as the day passed slowly; she found herself constantly fidgety and repeatedly glancing at the clock, hating the fact that only five minutes passed every time she looked.

In the end, it was totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took sssssOOOOOOO LONG TO WRITE. Seriously, I wrote a bit the day I posted last chapter and other bits in the following days. I was physically agonised by it. Such a relief to post now.


	26. Awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wrote this, it's been less than 15 minutes from the last update. What happened

**Awkward**

 

She heard the sound when she turned the page to the third chapter. She didn't know what exactly the noise was, so she decided to ignore it.

And the another one came. It sounded like the thud of two or three books falling.

She looked up from the book and glanced around, only getting the sight of the old librarian in the other side of the room and four people on the tables. Three of them seemed not to hear the noise. One had his head slightly tilted upwards, a frown on his face.

She shrugged and continued reading. She heard two pairs of feet leaving the room and saw the nerdy boy who was _immersed_ in a pile of books and the fairly attractive black haired tapping his pen against his temple, focusing on the paper on the table in front of him.

That's when she heard it again. But it sounded more like a _groan_.

She furrowed her eyebrows, looking up at the guy and she could see he heard it too, a sort of frightened look on his face. She analysed what he thought it could be.

And then she realised, just as another groan - _louder_ , this time - came to her ears from the stacks. She slightly widened her eyes at him and he raised an eyebrow.

She looked back down at her book, trying to focus on the tiny words on the yellow-ish page. Another moans - yes, actual feminine _moans_. In the _library_ \- sounded before she again looked up at him. Was this really happening?! He looked up at her almost at the same time and she could see he was asking himself the same question. She silently asked him if he really thought there were people enjoying themselves behind the shelves. He only raised his eyebrows in an obvious " _quite certainly_ ".

She couldn't stop the twitch corners of her lips made. _Unbelievable_.

The human sounds were getting louder - _what the actual hell_ \- and they could hear books falling - she secretly feared too many would fall and make what was happening partially visible - as she occasionally glanced at the blue eyed who was embarrassingly sharing this moment with her.

 _Lame_.

When they _finally_ heard the finishing muffled scream, she rubbed her temples with her hands, closing her eyes. She heard a stifled snort from where the guy was sitting and opened them, seeing he was quite amused at how disturbed she felt.

_Do people really think library is a proper place to have sex? How was that idea even thought of?!_

She glared at him - which made his smirk broaden; _the bastard_ \- and looked back down, finding herself in the third page from chapter three. Not resisting the urge to look up, she saw he was _still_ staring at her, amusement _still_ clear in his eyes and his smirk _still_ on his lips.

That was when the horny couple left the protection of the shelves. Two brown haired people, the girl urgently tugging at the guy's hand as she apparently tried to ignore the blue eyed and Emma's gaze. They had all the reasons to.

When she looked back to him, she almost fell back on her chair when she saw him three feet from her, sitting down on the chair in front of her at the table.

He huffed out a laugh. "Well, that was amusing," he said, and he had an accent and his eyes were bluer than she imagined and she could feel the heat coming up her neck as she lifted a hand to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose, only remembering she was wearing contacts when she didn't feel it there, quickly masking the move by scratching her glabella. _Smooth_.

"You could say that," she replied. _God_ , he was pretty.

He held out a hand. "Killian Jones. I'm sure you'll remember me in the future due the motives of our meeting."

She couldn't help but smile as she shook it. "Emma. Emma Swan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Glabella is the space between the eyebrows and above the nose." - Wikipedia. 
> 
> By the way, the ghost glasses thing. I do it at least 8 times a day. It's painful and so automatic I mask it even when I'm alone. I'm also lame. Oh well.


	27. Accidental Spying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard as hell to write, for some reason. And to compensate, I think, I have already written like three others. I don't understand my muse, so what the hell.

**Accidental Spying**

 

The first time Emma saw him through her window, she was studying in her desk and looked up at the movement she saw at the corner of her eye.

Indeed, there was someone, a guy, in the room opposite to her window, _and_ he was shirtless - which alone already made her drop the pen.

She then saw he was rubbing a towel on his head and thought it made sense. _Is he wearing any pants?_

Okay, she couldn't study anymore. _Distractions_.

Yes, she felt something weird in her stomach when she saw him putting in his shirt - his back was to her and it was _not_ helping -. No, she didn't know who the guy was, she hadn't even seen him around the campus in her three weeks of college. And yes, she found him _ridiculously_ attractive.

That night, when Mary Margaret came back to their room from her coffee date with David, Emma didn't mention the hot human she spied in the afternoon. _It was an accident, wasn't it?_

 

* * *

 

She found out he was a creature of habit. Every afternoon at 4 he got into his room and walked straight towards the left side of the window, coming back around ten minutes later, drying his damp hair with a towel.

Emma recognised she was sort of obsessed with it when the first week passed. She just couldn't stop. She always sat down to study at 3 and did it until around 4, when she just lifted her head and watched the whole process, going back to the books once he left the room.

It was downright ridiculous and made no sense; why on earth would she be drooling over a guy she'd never even _talked_ to? This was _not_ the Emma Swan she knew.

And why would she be drooling over a guy anyway? After Neal and Walsh? During her exams in college? _Ridiculous_.

But those thoughts never stopped her from looking up at 4 every afternoon.

 

* * *

 

It was a Saturday, the game was in ten minutes and, even if she didn't really like baseball that much, she enjoyed watching it. Mary Margaret was walking beside her, chattering about something with David and Ruby. Emma liked her group of friends; they were as different as her.

As they sat on the bleachers, she eyed the team. She'd never had a proper look on who was part of the baseball team, but now she recognised Jefferson and August. She saw two blondes ("Yes! Victor's _finally_ playing!," Ruby kindly screamed on her ear.), three brown haired, a light-ginger ("I still don't like Darling, his older brother's an asshole." "Oh, David, maybe Michael's not. Have you even talked to him at all?" David was silent.) and a weirdly familiar mop of black hair.

Widening her eyes and unconsciously perching up on her seat, she saw the player turn towards the bleachers and she immediately recognised him. _Well, shit._

"Who's _that_?," she nudged Ruby's arm.

The brunette followed her friend's gaze and grinned. "Killian Jones," she answered. She then looked at Emma. "Why, Swan? Interested?"

 _Yes_. "Shut up."

The players were introduced, they took their positions and the game started. Emma couldn't tear her eyes from Killian Jones.

 

* * *

 

Emma just stood up with Ruby. Of course she did. Her friend was going to congratulate her boyfriend for the monstrous victory and Emma would just _tag along._ Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that Jones was excitedly chatting with Victor. Right? _Right_.

They walked down the stairs to the field and Emma stayed behind as Ruby ran towards Victor and nearly tackled him, showering him with congratulations and screeches. She reached them when Ruby left her poor boyfriend's back and went to stand next to the blonde girl. She discreetly tugged on Emma's sleeve, making her look at the brunette.

' _What?_ '

' _I'm gonna introduce you two. Be ready._ '

' _Wait, what?!_ '

"Killian!," she called, catching the blue eyed's attention. "This is Emma Swan."

He smirked as he studied her form and Emma felt slightly self-conscious. Not that she would let it show. "Afternoon, love."

She flashed him a tight-lipped smile and held the yelp that Ruby's elbow on her ribs caused. "Hi."

"There, Vic, people are calling for you," Ruby grabbed his arm and tugged him to a group who cheered his arrival.

"So," Jones started. "You been studying here for long?"

All she could think was that she was now speaking to the guy she had been drooling on for nearly three weeks. She shook her head. "About two months ago."

He leaned an inch closer. "Freshman," he singsonged and she groaned, closing her eyes.

"Okay, flashbacks. _Stop_."

He laughed and she couldn't help but chuckle too. This was a quite ridiculous situation. They suddenly fell into an easy conversation about the game and the classes. She felt weirdly loose and light as she talked to him, as if they knew each other for months, not minutes. Well, in Emma's case, silent weeks. 

"I just felt the urge to hug you," he suddenly said, opening his arms.

He was soaped in sweat. She flinched away, even though she was kind of _dying_ to feel his arms around her. " _What_?! No!"

"Come on, Swan, I'm not even _that_ sweaty!," he insisted, getting hold of her arm. She tried to pull it away, but it was hard when she was nearly bending forward of laughing.

_What is even happening, am I drunk of something?_

He managed to pull her toward him and she used her last strengths to pull away, managing to squirm out of his grip and step back several strides. He just looked at her, challenge on his eyes.

"You really don't want me to chase, you, Swan. I'm the team's runner."

 _Well, crap._ She just ran. She could see he was close behind.

What was happening indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this even idek


	28. Hangry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another one, cause why not, right?

**Hangry**

 

She heard the clattering noise of pans right before she got to bed at 3 am - _stupid_ homework -. She entered under her covers and tried to ignore the sounds, but sleeping near the communal kitchen had it's disadvantages. The clattering continued and she was exhausted.

Her stomach rumbled when she thought of someone making food, but her head was foggy with sleep and sudden anger at who wasn't _letting her sleep._

Harshly getting up from the bed, she checked herself in the mirror to see if she was presentable and stomped out of the room into the kitchen, instantly catching the view of a guy's bare back. When he looked over his shoulder, it was none other than Killian Jones.

He wasn't wearing his nerdy glasses or his usual flannel, so of course she was mesmerised at how _attractive_ he actually was. She knew he had blue eyes, bright behind the lenses, but they were _even brighter_ when he wasn't wearing them. His back was weirdly muscled, and she had to ignore the itch her fingertips were feeling to just lightly skim across the valleys of his shoulder blades. That was weird.

She raised an eyebrow as soon as she realised she was _ogling_ and remembered why she had gotten up. "Jones?"

"Evening, Swan," he greeted, whisking the dough inside a bowl and _of course_ she wasn't staring at his arms.

Was he doing that to piss her off? "It's 3 am."

He turned around, facing her, as he continued to whisk. "I'm aware."

 _Don't look at his chest_. "Do you even sleep?"

He just shrugged. "I can't."

"Do you even care about other people trying to do it?," she motioned at the corridor of doors right around the corner.

"Swan, do you see anyone else here?," he looked right into her eyes, stopping the movements. Everything was suddenly so _still_. "You're the only one who was instantly bothered by my late night baking."

"What are you even baking?," she stepped forward, looking into the bowl.

He was quick to answer with a grin. "Cookies!"

His excitement was ridiculous and she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled from her chest. She settled on the table in front of the oven and looked at him expectantly.

He frowned. "Aren't you going to get back to sleep?"

She shrugged. "I may be angry and tired, but I'm hungry," she replied. "Now make us some cookies, _pirate_ ," she glanced at his _Pirates of the Caribbean_ themed PJ pants.

His grin turned into a smirk as he turned back to the utensils. "Now you just want to appreciate the view of my back."

She gasped in mock-offended. _Obviously_. "I wouldn't _dream_ of it."

She watched as he worked - she was sure he'd done it before; she couldn't bake. _At all_ \- and was surprised to see their conversation flowing easily. She had known him for a couple of years, not really _friends_  kind of know, but they had always been able to make a conversation about the weather or the classes in their occasional meetings in the common hall.

At some point in their waiting for the cookies to be ready, she discovered he had contacts but didn't really like to wear them.

"Why not?," she asked, tossing the whisk from one hand to another.

He shrugged, crossing his arms as he leaned on the counter. "Not really fond to gel objects touching my eyeballs 15 hours a day."

She wrinkled her nose. "Saying it like that does sound less appealing."

He was about to reply when the beep of the oven interrupted him. She jumped from her seat and went to stand beside him as he took the pan out. They already smelled delicious. She lifted her hand to grab one and he _slapped_ it. She looked up at him in disbelief.

"They're hot," he scolded. _You're hot._

_Stop it, Emma._

After Killian's guarantee they were cool enough, she grabbed one and couldn't stop the moan when she tasted them. They were _ridiculously_ tasteful.

"Don't make sounds like that in the presence if a man, Swan," he raised an eyebrow and she kicked him under the table.

"Shut up," she grinned, taking another bite.

After they ate at least five each, she tossed a cookie at his face.

"What was that for?!," he squeaked, wiping the bits from his hair and eyebrows.

"For waking me at 3 am, being too nice and making me forget I was angry at you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, are y'all ready for three long months full of speculations and new multi-chapters and an absurd quantity of fanfictions inside your heads? Cause I'm not.


	29. Not in the mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAT FINALE THO
> 
> SO, after so many different kinds of feels, I was finally creative enough to create a one shot that has not been prompted: I literally got it out of my head. Yay me.

**Not in the mood**

 

Ruby found her at Granny's, flopped down on a stool, forehead against the flat surface of the counter.

"Hey, Ems!" She knew she had to act nonchalant because Emma was _definitely not_ in the mood for, well, anything.

" _Hi_ ," was her graceful response, the sound slightly muffled.

"What's wrong?," the brunette asked, plopping her chin on her hand and looking down at the her friend's blonde head.

"Mary Margaret, Ashley and Aurora talked about babies for over _two hours_ and that physically exhausted me." She turned her head slightly to the side. "Why do you ask?"

Ruby shrugged. "Just thought it would be something more serious." She signalled for the waitress and ordered two cheeseburgers.

Emma lifted her face from the counter, resting her chin on her crossed forearms - she _did_ look tired - and scowled. "It _is_ serious! You weren't there; all I can think about now is onesies and soft-scented shampoo!"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Wow, they're creating a monster."

Before her friend could reply, the bell over the door chimed and they turned to see Killian Jones entering. Ruby knew Emma couldn't stop the tiny smile that crept to her lips at his sight. Storybrooke was a small town, and, even though they tried to keep it low, his new relationship with the sheriff had been spread by Leroy to everyone's ears.

"Ruby," he nodded at her in greeting, going to the stool next to Emma and dropping a kiss on her head without a word. He ordered a grilled cheese for him and silently grabbed Emma's hand on the counter, making the sheriff - probably unconsciously - smile.

Ruby liked their relationship. It was like they relied on each other, but didn't completely _depend_ on one another to live. Emma was a hard-ass sassy woman, who didn't take your shit, ready to snap at anyone, with a soft spot for chocolate. Killian was this smug and eternally smirking human who was a fine specimen of a man and patient as hell. They had met and -  _boom_ \- it was like the sexual tension had _taken over_. He hadn't been _that_ secretive about his feelings for her, flirting with her at any time he could; but she was quite difficult to grasp. No matter how hard Ruby insisted, she would still deny it. Until a beautiful day came and they just _happened_. They made this perfect, hot yet adorable kind of couple, who you could just see the love pour out of their eyes every time they looked at each other.

Ruby still demanded details - the lack of then freaked the brunette out.

It was only after he had gotten his grilled cheese and they were halfway through their cheeseburgers that he spoke again, wrapping his right arm around Emma as he held the sandwich with his scarred hand. "Alright, what's happened, love?"

There it was; the constant worry.

Emma shrugged. "My friends depress me."

He looked up at Ruby, silently asking _'What have you done?!'_

She scowled back. _'Don't look at me; I didn't do this.'_

He hummed, encouraging her to continue, as he stroked his hand up and down her arm in a soothing way.

"They kept talking about babies."

And that was when Ruby realised: Emma wasn't down because all she could think was babies, she was down because all she could think was the baby she abandoned all those years ago. She had told Ruby about Neal - she had wanted to punch him square in the face when she thought about it. Still did. _Eh_ \- and couldn't imagine how painful it was for Emma to give away her own son.

Maybe she was thinking back about him and imagining what could've happened if she _hadn't_ given him to adoption.

_Makes sense now._

Emma opened her mouth, as if she was about to talk again, and closed it afterwards. Ruby got the sign and quickly got up, shoving the last bite or her burger into her mouth.

"Well," she gulped. "I'm off now. See you tonight, Emma."

And quick as a lightning, she was out of the door.

__

* * *

 

 

Later that evening, when they were all gathered at Granny's for dinner, she spied the two of them for a while. Something had changed during the day. He was more _present_ , always next to her, always touching her in some way, always near.

She saw the many times he breathed in her hair, the many times he nudged his nose on her cheek or temple, the many times he ran his hands up and down her arm or her back, the way his thumb kept caressing her palm when they were holding hands, the way he was always next to her, as if she could just fall apart right there, and he'd be there to bring the pieces together.

And then, at some point of the night, as Killian snaked a cupcake to the table, enveloping it with a napkin and carefully tucking it into his coat pocket, Ruby remembered.

It was the Emma's baby's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard yet fun to write from another person's point of view. It feels so foreign. Mainly for me, someone incapable of reading and/or writing other ships fanfiction. Whoopsie, right?


	30. Movie night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys gUYS ITS THE 30TH CHAPTER I CANT EVEN BELIEVE IT OMG
> 
> I have successfully spent my whole day today rewatching all of the Star Wars movies - and yes, that means I spent about 12 hours in front of a television hearing the constant theme songs. I loved it - and I have seen sO MANY CS PARALLELS.
> 
> Like, there's this one part when Anakin literally says to Padmé "Not a day went by that I didn't think of you" and I sCREAMED. And then the Han and Leia parallels. Their mere existence is one (princess/pirate. Y'know. Yah)
> 
> Ugh, I love Star Wars. 
> 
> And that elicited a spark of the Force inside of me and this chapter came to be. It's big. And slow. But screw it.

**Movie night**

 

"Guys, what do you all think about a movie night?," Ruby asked at lunch, making all their heads snap up.

"When?," Mary Margaret asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Tonight or tomorrow night."

"Maybe tomorrow," Victor said as he blocked his phone. "Movie night's not fun if it doesn't end after 1 AM, so we better do it on a Friday."

Almost glowing at the general nod, she squeaked and clapped her hands once.

" _Why_ are you so excited about this?," Emma asked, gulping down a bite of her sandwich.

Ruby just shrugged and stole a fry from her boyfriend's tray. "So, which movie?"

" _21 Jump Street._ "

" _The Hobbit._ "

" _Princess Diaries._ "

" _Pirates of the Caribbean._ "

 _All_ at the same time. Emma could only look startled.

" _Whoa_ , guys, one at a time!," Ruby held up her hands. "Mary Margaret, I really doubt the guys would agree with _Princess Diaries,_ no matter how actually awesome it is."

"There's nothing really wrong with it," Victor rested his chin on his hand.

Ruby ignored him. "David, dear, we have already watched _The Hobbit._ Let it go." With a huff, he bit his sandwich. Mary Margaret put her hand on his shoulder. "Killian, I think everyone here has already watched _Pirates of the Caribbean_ at _least_ 23 times." At the hum of agreement, the blue eyed pouted. _What a baby._ "Vic, _21 Jump Street_ is not even that funny." It looked rehearsed when everyone in the table booed her at the same time. Emma threw a French fry at her friend. With a glare, she shot it back. " _Fine_ , achieve a general agreement."

They all exchanged glances as they silently tried to think of something.

" _Star Wars._ "

Emma was impressed to see it came out of her mouth. _Why_ did she even suggest it?

"That's actually not a bad idea," David raised his eyebrows.

"Am I the only one who's never watched it?," the Irish accent made Emma turn her attention to the black haired at the end of the table.

Killian Jones had been a sort of a riddle to her before he entered their little group.

In the start, it had been only Ruby and Mary Margaret, Emma entering after she came to Storybrooke with her adoptive family.

(August, her older adoptive brother, had finished school the year prior and was looking for inspiration for his new book. Marco, his father, the kind man who had won a special place in Emma's heart after he adopted her and treated her like his granddaughter, with lots of love and affection, had mentioned this sleepy Maine town he had once lived in. So they left the business of Boston and came to Storybrooke.)

Then, Mary Margaret met David, and they formed the most perfect and fluffy and cutesy couple you could have _ever_ seen. Emma was impressed someone could love anyone that much at the age of 15.

Then came cocky Victor, who had won Ruby's heart and they made another cute, yet unexpected couple.

Killian had entered the Circle of Friendship via David. They were both on the school's baseball team and he slowly but surely became a part of it.

He had annoyed her at the start, being the gracefully smug bastard he had always been and flirting with her like hell. They normally argued once a month - it was automatic and mostly because of the _dumbest_ reasons - and that made her realise she was getting _closer_ to him. She realised that, even if they fought a lot, they were almost the closest friends in the small group. They were the ones who knew and understood each other's pasts, not judging or pitying. Emma felt he was the one she could _really_ confide, sometimes. He was usually the one that held her together when she had a breakdown or things of the sort.

She would never forget the camping trip the six of them made about a year prior, and how she went to the shore of the river that passed by and just sat there, thinking, not even noticing the moment he flopped down beside her. They talked for hours, mainly about their past and their thoughts about the pain behind their stories.

They sometimes felt awkward, being the two single people in the group and, after he had casually mentioned he quite fancied her from time to time - when she wasn't yelling at him -, everything became... _Tense_ between them.

She couldn't deny that she had always felt kind of physically attracted to him - who wouldn't? He was unfairly dashing and had a smug yet pleasant personality -. But since his confession, she had started to notice more _good_ things than _bad_ about him. She had noticed how his eyelids were heavy when he arrived at school, the glim in his blue eyes when he laughed, the way he stared at the nothing when he was deep in thought, the way his smirk turned into a genuine smile when she talked to him, how his hair was always sticking up in every direction due his hands running through it throughout the day and how he scratched the spot behind his ear when he was nervous. All of it kept making her want to lightly skim her fingertips over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, to run her own fingers through his dark hair, to tug at his shirt and pull him onto her, to feel his warmth more vividly than when she felt it as he sat next to her. Not to mention the sometimes nearly _unbearable_ urge to grab him and just kiss the hell out of his way-too-pretty lips. It had already gotten to the point where it was _irritating_.

"Okay, then," Ruby took a sip of her coke. "It's settled."

 

* * *

  

"That's why we came earlier?," Killian asked as they sat down in front of Ruby's TV. The brunette had informed them they would try to watch _all_ the six movies in _one day._ They had gotten to her house right after they left school, and Emma knew that they would need at _least_ 12 hours. They wouldn't make it.

"Are we going to sleep over?," Mary Margaret wondered to David as she sat on the couch, him settling next to her. Emma didn't know if it was a rhetorical question, so she kept her mouth closed.

The couch turned out to be too small, and of course Emma and Killian would be the ones left out. The two couples cuddled up on the couch, Ruby got up and grabbed three pillows and piles of blankets for them. They managed to get comfortable at their friends' feet, tugging the covers up to their shoulders and curling into the pillows. All she saw was Ruby's hand stretching out and pressing a button on the remote and she lost herself into the Jedi motto.

She was the one that answered Killian's short and low questions throughout the movie, and she was fighting not to grab his hand and entwine their fingers. She knew he wouldn't resist, and that was _exactly_ why she was fighting. The prospective of being in a relationship had always scared her. She didn't know if it would last, if he would enjoy it as much as she did it the other way around. She had absolutely no idea of how it could go; it could turn out to be amazing and perfect, but it could also crumble to pieces. What if she screwed up? What if _he_ screwed up? What if they just eventually got tired?

Being in the foster system her whole life taught her that people got tired. And when that happened, they tossed the motive away instead of fighting and trying to enjoy it more. Usually, Emma was said motive, and she learned that people _always_ got tired.

That didn't stop that part of her brain that kept whispering ' _maybe he's different_ '.

 

* * *

 

They were halfway through Episode II when she felt a soft graze on the back of her right hand. She was almost drifting off to Dreamland, the room darkening as the hours passed by and the sound of lightsabers' moves and explosions lulling her to sleep.

The light touch made her want to look up, but her instincts spoke louder than reason inside her head. All she wanted now was to feel his warm palm against hers.

Anakin was declaring how he felt to Padmé, and she felt the touch again. She knew he wouldn't go further, knowing her past and trust issues, so she was the one who slowly skimmed her hand under his and tangled their fingers together. She could hear his instant sigh and feel the slight squeeze his hand gave hers.

She couldn't help but notice how his rough palm fit _just right_ over hers, like it was meant to be there all along.

She didn't let go of it, barely noticing the patterns his thumb made over her skin and how it tightened all the way through Anakin and Padmé's quick heart to heart conversation before they entered the Arena after they were captured. Yes, she also felt the need to kiss him when Padmé did it.

The outside of their bubble was almost forgotten by Emma, the slight exclamations coming from Ruby and David ("Seems like I _wasn't_ the only one who hadn't watched it.") all the way through the movie passing almost _unnoticed_.

She thought about how Ruby would keep picking on her the next day because Emma was _sure_ the brunette had caught a glimpse of their hands glued to each other and she also knew Ruby was trying to push her towards Killian since David had introduced them, claiming she ' _felt the sexual tension between you two the moment you first spoke, Emma._ '.

 _Can't wait,_ she thought with fake excitement, dreading her friend's lecture about it being ' _right in front of you; if you would just_ see _, Emma!_ '.

"When will Luke and Leia appear?," her thoughts were interrupted by David's questioning.

"Episode IV," Victor responded, impatience clear in his voice.

"Why do you ask?," Mary Margaret's sweet voice spoke quietly.

"I just wanted to know when to brace myself for Han Solo's endless sass."

Emma snorted. Killian lightly squeezed her hand to catch her attention. "Who's Han Solo?," he asked in a whisper.

"Oh my God, you _really_ don't know anything about _Star Wars_!," she hissed, making him chuckle. She sighed before answering - _no_ , it was _not_ because of the tender way his thumb caressed her palm. "Han Solo's kind of a space pirate. You'll know in a few hours."

By the end of the third episode, Emma noticed how closer she was lying next to him since the start. And it _obviously_ had _nothing_ to do with her frequent desire of snuggling deeper into him. _Of course it hasn't._

_Stop lying to yourself, Emma._

"Swan," she heard his whisper close to her ear. She shivered and he chuckled. "You cold?" She shook her head. She _really_ wasn't. "I wanted to ask you something."

"W-- _now_?," she raised an eyebrow, eyes glued to the TV - even though Obi-Wan's duel with Anakin suddenly didn't look _that_ interesting anymore.

"Yes." He hesitated before asking, and she felt his hand squeeze hers - for the umpteenth time since they started. "I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee tomorrow afternoon."

"I thought we were already going with the guys--"

"That's on Sunday. And I meant just the two of us, Swan."

 _Wait, what?_ Was that _really_ happening or did her mind just trick her into believing he was actually asking her out?

The Emperor had just found a nearly burned to death Anakin when she finally answered. "Okay."

No matter how surprised she was with the invite, a part of her couldn't stop thinking that it was about time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High school AU, cause why not


	31. Youth, Laughter, Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is actually interesting because I took it out of a Tumblr post, which consisted of a bunch of scrambled letters and, the first three you found, you used as prompt for a poem or a story. Tada.  
> I have discovered an undiscovered (oh really) passion for High School AU. Idek

**Youth, Laughter, Love**

 

Emma first saw him when he tripped and nearly broke his nose on the first day of school. The day had barely started; she was walking from her current foster family'a house to school and, as soon as she approached the gates, she saw this dark haired boy, distracted as he kicked a pebble in the ground step on the people and tumble forward, catching himself right on time. She watched as he looked around and spotted her, colour immediately tinging his cheeks as he resumed his walking - much faster - into the school building. She could see the bright blue of his eyes from where she was standing.

It was her first day in a new school - she had moved to another foster home two weeks prior -, which meant she was already bracing herself for the jokes, bullies and _chaos_. However, she did _not_ brace herself for a certain blue eyed who decided to sit next to her at lunch.

She was focusing on her sandwich - or a lame excuse for so, judging by the badly parted bread, three slices of cheese and half one of ham -, trying to ignore the outer world - she had already heard a couple of people whispering to each other as she walked through the halls, now she could make out four shapes out of the corner of her eye, the constant moves their heads made towards her already setting her off. She already hated freshman year - and failing miserably at it. Laying two of the slices of cheese on the foil that wrapped the sandwich, she took her first bite and was glad to discover that the bread wasn't rotting or old. Well, at least it didn't _taste_ so.

She didn't look up when a figure approached her, but she did glance at it when it - _he_  - settled on the ground next to her. She raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you?"

The corners of his lips tugged up in a smirk. "Not really. Can I sit here?" He had an accent. _Perfect_.

Both eyebrows shot up at that. "You've already made yourself comfortable, haven't you?," she snarked, snapping her head back to it's previous position. She heard him unwrap his own sandwich and take a bite.

She could be excluded and downright unwanted, but she was still a _teenager_. She was still someone who actually fought inwardly not to look up and take in more of his handsome features. In the short time she did so, she noticed the pink scar on his right cheek, his disheveled black hair, the confident air and she was pretty sure his _eyebrows_ had life of their own.

"What's your name?," he suddenly asked her, no trace of the hostility she was throwing at him in his voice.

"Why should I tell you?" _Really, why?_

She felt him shrug next to her - _when did he come that close?_ Their shoulders were touching. Why did that make her stomach twist and her face feel slightly warmer?! "Perhaps because it's the first day of school and I've never seen you here before."

"I can be quite invisible."

"No, I've seen how those idiotic looking girls kept gossiping about this ' _new weird girl_ '--" her head snapped up at that and she noticed his eyes were on said group; she followed his gaze. The girls were still whispering, but their faces were no longer amused. He sighed. "The brunette with the superior look is Regina Mills. The queen bee of, well, basically the _whole_ school. The overly excited and nearly _peeing_ chihuahua next to her--" Emma nearly choked on her sandwich, the snort coming out of her before she could stop it. "is Kathryn. Just-- stay away from her. The one with the quizzical eyebrow is Ursula."

"Did you just make a _Pride and Prejudice_ reference?"

He raised his own eyebrow at that. "I am not alone in the world of good books?"

She shook her head lightly in slight disbelief and turned her look back at the queen, the chihuahua, ms Darcy and a last one. "Who's the ginger?"

"Oh, that's Zelena, Regina's half sister." At her own name's mention, she took a bite of green apple. _Seriously, who even eats green apples these days?_ "You can tell by the occasional look of disgust she throws at Her Majesty she's not really _fond_ of her."

 _Indeed_. Right then, Zelena casted Regina a sideways glance, as if analysing the latter's being and highly disapproving of it. "How can you be so perceptive?"

"I've been here for more than three years. You learn to read people a they get older."

"That's really wise," she laughed. Was she really laughing? _With_ someone? On her first day? Was she dreaming?

"I know," he said, and she turned her look back at him. He was looking at her as if she... _Intrigued_ him. "You still didn't tell me your name."

"Who says I will?"

"You know I'll find out sooner or later."

She narrowed her eyes at him, studying his eyes in search of traces of treason, lies, falsity... _Nothing_. Her lie-detector was silent and still. It made her shoulders relax a tiny bit. Not that she would let it show, but, by the way his eyes softened, he noticed, _the bastard._

She opened her mouth to tell him when she was interrupted by a large shadow being cast by something behind her. She turned her head around and was surprised to see the four baboons they had been laughing at not a minute prior.

Regina, at the center, looked down at them with the slightest of grimaces on her lips. Raising a perfectly archer eyebrow, she finally spoke, arrogant tone in her voice. "Killian?"

"Yes, your Majesty?," he replied, sass and challenge strong in his eyes as he leaned back against the railing they were sitting by.

"What are you doing sitting with the _freak_?" Emma didn't even flinch at that - she was used to it, after all - and Killian must have noticed.

"But I was sitting with blondie." Regina threw him a slightly confused look. "Regina, you were in the _other side of the courtyard_."

No matter how hard she tried, Emma couldn't stop the light twitch of her lips. He was _slaying_.

Regina's nostrils became slightly wider as she took calming breaths, fire in her eyes. Emma had never thanked the world didn't have magic, because Regina would have already thrown a fireball at him. Or twenty. "You're officially _kicked out_ kicked the group," she growled.

"I don't bloody care!," he exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I never even _wanted_ to be a part of this silly group of yours. You _dragged_  me into it, for some reason." He perched up, straightening his back as he tried to look her in the eye. "Actually... Why did you?"

With a stomp - an actual _stomp_ -, Regina left their side, hard stepping towards the doors inside at the same time the bell rang. She never answered him.

They waited until she was out of sight to start laughing. By the time they stopped, Emma had tears on her eyes and her belly ached. He hadn't laughed like that in... Well, she _didn't_ _remember_ laughing like that.

"Emma," she breathed out when they settled down a bit. He looked up, confusion in his eyes. "My name. It's Emma Swan."

Comprehension filled his gaze as he got up and held out a hand to help her. "Well, Swan. I'm Killian Jones." Taking it reluctantly, she felt light as a feather when he pulled her up and simply could _not_ ignore the jolt their touches elicited up her arm and how they lingered for about two seconds, staring into each other's eyes, blue seeping into green. She could _smell_ him, and he was one of those people who you just wanted to bury your nose on their shirts and breathe in deeply.

The buzz of voices snapped Emma out of her haze and she stepped back.

"Now if you don't mind, he said, taking a tiny step towards her and motioning in the direction of the doors. "I would like to escort you to your next class."

She scoffed. "I don't exactly need an escort."

"Well, then some company." He offered her the sweetest of smiles and she couldn't help but reply with one of her own. Freshman year started better than she imagined it would. Not that she was complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking if this needed a sequel, because, now that the initial prompt list is gone, I can mess with the chapter as much a I want... 
> 
> You tell me. Comment if this needs a sequel.


	32. Youth, Laughter, Love (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely suck at writing sequels because I am weak.

**Youth, Laughter, Love part 2**

 

Killian left her in English and left to whatever class he would have.

After all the classes were finished and she thanked heavens she could _go away,_ Emma bumped - quite literally - on him as she left the building.

"Oi, Swan! Where are you going?"

"Um... Home?" The word was foreign on her tongue and didn't seem right.

"Do you _need_ to go home _now_?" He says the word with as much uncertainty as she did.

She just shrugged. "I'm not sure they would even notice."

"Let me guess, negligent parents?," he asked, frowning.

"Foster family." If this was to be her first and probably only friend, better just spit it out and hope he never tells anyone - not that it would stop people from knowing. It _was_ high school, after all.

Emma saw how the confusion left his eyes as they softened. She was impressed to see no pity or sadness in them. Just... _Understanding_. "Well," he spoke, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders. "I shall take you to a special place of mine, then."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "It's not like a drug selling point, is it?"

He slowed to a stop and stepped in front of her, crossing his arms. His mouth was in a tight line, but she saw the way his eyes filled with amusement and how his expression basically told her he was doing everything he could not to laugh. "Now, Swan, what kind of person do you take me for?" He stepped forward, leaning in until their faces were only inches apart. She didn't pull back, and she wasn't sure if it was for pure challenge or because she at some point lost herself in the blue infinite that were his eyes.

All he did for about twenty seconds was gaze into her own eyes, squinting, as if he searched for traces of lies. Except that she knew he wasn't.

Suddenly pulling back, Killian sighed. "It's a field, Swan. Not far from here."

"A _field_?"

"Yes, a field; you'll get it when we get there." And with that, he took hold of her hand and dragged her across the little town, stopping at the edge of the woods.

"Do we have to go through the woods to get there?" She could be wrong about him. He could be the minion of a murderer. He could _be_ the murderer. He could be _anything--_

"Yes, but I think we can go around it, by the beach; although, it _will_ take longer." He looked at her, waiting for an answer.

She glanced at her watch. It wasn't that late. She gathered her foster mother wouldn't care, so she just decided to throw all her worries out of the window and nodded. She was pleased to see a genuine smile stretch across his lips as she did so.

 

* * *

 

The field Killian showed her turned out to be _beautiful_. It was literally a field, green grass, the forest and the beach visible from each of the sides.

All they did for the next three hours was lay under the fall sun, run like 5 year-olds, talk about their lives and develop this sort of strong _link_ between them. She felt like she could be herself and free at the same time around him.

She felt _amazing_.

That night, after receiving the usual " _call if you'll get home this late_ " with a bored tone laced on her foster mom's voice, she ran upstairs and texted the number Killian saved on her phone. She actually snorted when she saw he put ' _Drugged Lover_ ' as his contact name. She decided she wouldn't change it. _No harm, right?_

_**She scolded me for arriving late because of you** _

_Not really my fault, you were the one who agreed to come with me_

_**I'm just glad you didn't kill me** _

_Oh, bloody hell, Swan, I was planning to do it next week_

Laughing, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She didn't see the dead eyes and emotionless features she saw everyday when she got up; she saw a smiling teenage face, a bright and satisfied look in her eyes.

Emma never thought she would someday be eager to go to school the next morning. _Well, there's always a first, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Christmas is in a few days. A bit more than a week. What the hell. 
> 
> ALSO, I found something earlier today (I can't remember if it was part of the masterpost camphalfblood suggested... If it is, thank you, friend) and it's like 30 days of your OTP and it's like a challenge and *cough* I do love a challenge *cough* and I might start that soon, sooo


	33. In the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more because its 3 AM and I just wrote this out of a prompt I found on Tumblr.

**In the past**

 

She walked into the library and immediately headed to the shelves where diaries laid. There were old diaries, new diaries, fictional diaries and actual diaries people actually wrote. There were published versions and handwritten manuscripts of people who just wanted to leave a part of them in the world.

Emma had noticed this section three days prior and couldn't stop herself from coming to the library and sitting there for _hours_ , reading stories and daily facts and happenings. She was just in love with everything.

She decided to go for the old looking ones today. She grabbed a hardened leather covered book and plopped herself on the puff she usually spent her day on.

Studying the cover, she noticed two tiny worn-golden letters at the bottom: _KJ_. Those were obviously the person's initials. She didn't know if it was fictional but not published or if it actually happened.

Opening the book, se saw the person's handwriting was neat and fancy, a flourish here and there. She started reading the days of a man called Killian Jones.

According to the diary, he had started writing it right before he entered king George's navy. She looked back on her school History classes and tried to recall a king named George. With a shrug, she decided she would find out later.

Her suspicions were tossed off the window when she read the place he lived in was called " _the Enchanted Forest_ ". Fictional. _But the pages look really old..._

Killian Jones had a brother named Liam. Liam was the captain of a ship he called " _the Jewel_ ". He fully described a day on the ship and gave the diary a rant about good form. She giggled to herself as she read that " _one thing that will not be tolerated aboard this ship is bad form_ ". He sounded like an old man, but he was entering the Navy now, which meant he was young.

Later on, he mentioned he managed to become one of the youngest Lieutenants in the Navy, Liam joining him in the ' _one of the youngest'_ type.

Emma nearly gasped when she found an actual sketch of a young man, dark haired, a light stubble along a strong jaw, eyes clear and soft. Under it, it read " _Liam made this picture of me as we sailed a while back. Misplaced in the middle of the book._ ".

She felt something warm spread across her chest as she read about his life. However, when she read that " _the king sent us to a foreign land. Fully uncharted. We are after a plant that can cure any disease_ ", she perched up on the puff. By his tales, she gathered king George was an _asshole_ who didn't care for anyone or anything besides himself and the kingdom's wealth. _Why would he want a plant that cured everything?_ Killian mentioned a war was going on, but that king George didn't seem to mind much for the lives lost.

She felt a tear run down her cheek as she read the trembled words and a few circular stains along three pages. As her own tear fell on them, she saw they were identical. _He was crying as he described Liam's death._ She felt a ltug on her heart and the feeling of loneliness fell upon her.

He had stopped writing for a while. When she turned the page, she saw his handwriting was slightly curvier and more carefully drawn. He spoke of a woman he had met on a bar, and how she was not a wench and how she had caught him offguard as he fell hard for her. Emma felt like she was reading _The Notebook_ as she read the poems he wrote for the woman - _Milah_ \- and noticed the amount of love he poured into every single word. She studied a sketch of Milah - she was pretty, eyes as clear as his, dark curly hair tumbling down her back as she smiled softly at Emma - and felt as if Killian was right there next to her, telling her all these stories. She could imagine his voice, deep and with a lilting accent, for some reason. She imagined how she would fall asleep as it lulled her into the dark.

It was already early evening when she read about Milah's death, how a man he referred to as ' _crocodile_ ' ripped her heart out and crushed it in front of Killian as the latter stood tied up to the mast, helpless. The crocodile was apparently after some magic bean and, after thinking it was inside Killian's left hand, chopped it off, without bothering to _check_ first.

Emma physically felt his heartache and she couldn't explain _how_. As she read his description of his thoughts as Milah died in his arms, she felt as if her own heart was being crushed. Or _squeezed_. More tears came and all she suddenly wanted was for Killian to be _happy_.

Killian told how he found a sail hook and used it as a replacement for his hand. She suddenly stopped reading and looked up, a theory forming on her head. _Was Killian Captain Hook?_ _The_ Captain Hook?

Why was she even caring so much, it was just a book. It wasn't real or current...

It turned out Killian _was_ Captain Hook, and he became feared in all the seven seas, being avoided by other ships and winning every seabattle he fought.

Killian told how he used the bean that was in his right hand to open a portal to Neverland. Later on, after a really - _really_ \- long time without a word from him, he says he spent nearly _300_ years in Neverland, and finally found a way to get his revenge from the crocodile. She felt it wasn't a good idea.

She was _way_ too into it, and her thoughts were already turning towards his life before the Navy and after the last page. Or what she _thought_ was the last page.

The _actual_ last page was taken by a drawing of a man - she slightly recognised Killian; older, hotter and way too manly for her female senses -, in a high collared leather coat, vest and a shirt with half the buttons unbuttoned. The artist - Milah - made sure to draw the chest hair coming out of it and that drawing made weird things to Emma.

She felt as if Killian was _real_. She felt as if this was something that really happened and she'd never wanted to go to his time and place and just hug him and talk to him and comfort him and fight with him and laugh with him more than now.

 _I am_ not _falling in love with someone who lived hundreds of years ago and is not real_ , she thought with a laugh.

_Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt had something to do with person B having lived hundreds of years ago and person A reading person B's diary or personal letters and falling in love.


	34. Unfortunate coincidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I laughed when I read this prompt and this chapter turned out to be childish, silly and big.

**Unfortunate Coincidence**

 

Yes, Emma had a few regrets. No, she did _not_ think hooking up with a hot-as-hell dark haired British would eventually become one of them. Because no, she absolutely did _not_ think she would see him again. She had known his name was something Jones, but did not imagine it was the same Jones one of her best friends Liam kept talking about.

For the ages they had known each other, Liam mentioned a certain Killian or 'my brother'. She had never had the chance to meet him. Until now.

Liam was having a Christmas reunion with their friends. According to him, everyone would be there: David and Mary Margaret, Ruby and her new boyfriend, Graham, Tink, Regina and Robin, Archie, Leroy and his numerous brothers, Ariel and Eric - Emma had never met him, and was eager to finally do so -, August, Aurora and Phillip, even their old friend Elsa. Literally, all of the old and new friends she shared with him would be there.

As she went up the steps in front of his house, she thought who else would be there. She didn't know why she had this weird feeling on her stomach, like something _big_ was going to happen. Reaching the door, she rang the doorbell and waited for her Liam's smiling face to appear as the door opened; she was instead greeted by David, who gave her a bear hug and let her in.

She truly smiled as she greeted everyone, exchanging polite hellos with Neal and nearly squealing when she got to Elsa. Her friend had travelled to a place in _freaking_ _Scandinavia_  for nearly three years and only now was back. She promised they would catch up later or any other day.

When she greeted Liam, he pulled her to the other side of the house, going on about how she would finally meet his brother and how excited he was about it. She couldn't help but laugh; he looked like a child on Christmas morning.

She was looking at her feet, careful not stumble over a tinsel or anything else along the way because of Liam's eagerness, so she didn't see what his brother looked like until the older had announced the his name.

"Emma, this is Killian."

She looked up and her smile fell. _Oh, hell, no._

"Jones?" _Freaking hell, no._

He tilted his head. "Swan?" He glanced at Liam for a second, confused yet slightly embarrassed look in his eyes before turning them back at her.

"What, do you know each other?," Liam asked, and all she could do was minimally shake her head at Killian Jones as her face and neck blushed furiously.

"Er..." He noticed her discreet warning and was obviously trying to make something up. _Thank goodness for quick minds,_ she thought as his eyes lit up and a mask of indifference fell upon his face. "Yes, actually. A few months ago, I-- er, she was cornered by a man with a bible and I helped her, um, get off that situation..." He scratched behind his ear - she had been  _drunk_ and she _still_ remembered that gesture. _Damn it_ \- and avoided her eyes, fixing his own on Liam.

His brother seems to buy it, shrugging and resting his hand on Emma's shoulder. "Okay, then." Giving it a little pat, he stepped back into the corridor and started walking back to the rest of their friends. "Well, you catch up and come back when you're done." And with a smile, he was gone.

She moved her gaze from his shoes to his face and felt her cheeks burn even more. _Why_ did she even go to that bar?

She saw his Adam's apple bobble up and down as he swallowed and finally met his eyes and _God_ , they were even bluer than her fuzzy mind could remember. She shouldn't remember a night like that, not with the amount of alcohol she put into her system. He opened and closed his mouth various times, as if he couldn't find words to utter and she eased him from his worries.

"I... I'm gonna go now," she said, turning on her heels and striding off the door, but she was stopped by a hand on her elbow

"Wait, Emma--"

"No!," she pulled away from his grasp, but didn't make any other move to leave. She looked up at him. "It was a mistake, and I would very much enjoy just not talking about it."

"Wa-... what if it wasn't a mistake?," he frowned, not breaking eye contact.

She did everything she could to ignore the voice in her head repeating his words. _What if it wasn't?_

"It _was_. It was a one-time thing and I was sure I wouldn't see you again. We were two drunk people in a crowded bar full of half-naked women and men looking for company for the night." She gave him a pointed look and noticed how close he was standing. _I can smell him. I can freaking_ smell _him and the bastard smells good._ She was putting all her strengths in avoiding her eyes to turn to his lips and trying not to feel too attracted by his scent. He smelled like the sea and fresh mint and another thing she couldn't describe but it made her want to pin him against the wall and just kiss _the hell_ out of him.

"What if I was looking for company for a longer period of time?" _Well_... "What if I had made you breakfast of you hadn't left before I woke up? What if I was looking for something serious and you just got it wrong?"

He was throwing questions she couldn't answer at her face, but her stubbornness swallowed her and she couldn't leave the last words for him. "What if I wasn't ready? What if I was already leaving when you strolled from wherever the hell you were to my side? What if you hadn't tried to 'seduce' me?"

"I did _not_ try to seduce you!"

"Yes, you did! You came to me in all your _peacock glory_ and hit on me at the second you got there. Not to mention the endless flirting--"

He pointed a finger at her, leaning in a tiny bit, a smirk settling on his lips. "Ah, but _you_ flirted back."

She scoffed because she was _very aware_ she had basically _thrown_ herself at him that night. _I'm never having alcohol again_. "But _you_ started it."

"You see, love, this is the kind of arguing two 5 year-olds have. Or couples."

"Are you seriously trying to win me over by using the excuse that 'couples fight'?" 

"Nah-ah, this fight is _specifically_ childish."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, you started it." _God_ , what was she, 8?

He let out a laugh, and she held her own smile. She gathered he saw how her eyes lit up. "You see, Swan, this is special. To be honest-" _Oh God._ "I felt this weird pull towards you when I saw you sitting at the bar and trust me, if I had wanted it to be a ' _one-time thing_ ' as you put it, I wouldn't have minded the flirting. And, by the way, I _don't_ peacock."

That time, the laugh came before she could stop it. "You so do." And turning around, she started walking towards the rest of her friends. As she entered the room, closely followed by Killian - who was explaining the difference between _peacocking_ , being _cocky_ and having a _right way with words_ -, she saw the knowing look dear Ruby sent her, accompanied by the trademark wolfish grin and the ' _you'll tell me everything about what is happening right now later_ ' face. She replied with her ' _fuck off_ ' roll of eyes and proceeded to plop herself on the couch.

She didn't even flinch when Killian sat directly next to her, glueing with her from shoulder to knee. In fact, she felt as if they sat like that daily. She felt _comfortable_. She wasn't bothered by his body warmth - quite the contrary, no matter how hard she tried to lie to herself - or the was the back of his hand brushed hers every now and then.

She ignored how they fell into an easy conversation and how she wanted to go to a quiet room with him and have other 'more enjoyable activities', as he had suggested that night, weeks prior. She ignored how her friends seemed to notice their proximity and the questioning look Liam gave them here and there. She just ignored everything around her and tried to focus on Killian only - it wasn't as hard as she thought it would be.

It turned out sober Killian was as charming and verbally attractive as drunken Killian. He had his way with words and she would not admit she had a thing for him by the third hour of the party.

The first time they stopped talking was when Emma paced around the house and stopped by a window, sipping from her glass as she watched the Christmas lights tinkle outside.

"So, Ems," Ruby snaked her being to her side, bumping her shoulder with the blonde's. "Who's the hottie?"

With a sigh, she accepted Ruby would not leave it and just decided to be open with her. "Liam's brother, mind you."

"Oh my God, are you banging your best friend's _brother_?" She may have sounded surprised, but she was smirking.

 _How did she--_ "What makes you think we banged?"

The brunette scoffed. "Please, you throw him the ' _please, ravish me again_ ' look every time you cross eyes." At Emma's disbelieving scowl, she raised a hand. "Don't worry, he throws you the ' _I want you here and now_ ' look too."

 _Oh, screw it_. "Is it really that obvious?"

Widening her eyes, Ruby jumped on her spot. "So you _are_ banging him?!"

Emma shushed her friend and lowered her tone voice. "It was just once and I didn't even know who he was."

"You dirty slut."

"Shut up. Plus, it won't happen again."

"Are you kidding me? You're saying you haven't noticed the lovesick-puppy look he sends you?"

"I thought you said he sends the ' _I want you here and now_ ' look."

She waved a dismissive hand. "He keeps bouncing from one to other."

"So you're saying he's a lovesick manwhore."

"I never called him a _manwhore_."

"So you're saying he's a lovesick grown man who is very aware of his ridiculously attractive features and uses that to put women on his bed?"

"Yes, that is pretty much what in saying."

Emma breathed out a laugh. "You're insane."

"Oh, please, don't think I haven't noticed the yearning looks and doey eyes you've been sending him all night. You want him. And not in the sexual way- well, not _only_ in the sexual way; but you actually see a future with him. And I can feel you're scared. But Ems, really," she rested her hand on Emma's forearm. "I just want to see you happy. And by what I've heard, Killian seems like a nice guy."

"You know he has everything to break my heart, right?"

"Maybe he has everything to heal it and make it warmer and fuzzier," her friend shrugged, squeezing her arm and stepping back, going back to her boyfriend and Robin, leaving Emma to her thoughts.

_You know, maybe she's right. Maybe you can see a future with him. A happy one._

Which made absolutely no sense, since they hooked up _once_ and never saw each other again. However, she did get to spend these last few hours with him and she had to admit, Ruby was right.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the man in question walking towards her and stopping in front of the window. "Swan?"

She jumped, startled and looked up at him. "Oh, hi."

"You okay?"

"Um, yeah." _Why does he worry so much?_

"You just seemed a bit affected by whatever talk Tall Shoes and you had."

 _Tall Shoes_. She inwardly laughed at the nickname and allowed a tiny smile to set on her lips. "Were you staring again, Jones?"

He scoffed. " _Of course_ I was. I mean, have you looked on the mirror?," he teased, eyes running over her from head to toe. She blushed at his inspection and how he could make _everything_ sound like an invitation. And he _knew it_. _Smug bastard._

 _Spit it out._ "You know, Ruby was talking to me about giving you a chance."

"Was she?," he asked, stepping forward as he tilted his head.

She hummed in agreement. "And I'm not sure what to do because I've had my heart broken more times than I would like."

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad to hear that," he replied, grin widening.

However, she couldn't help but frown at him. "You're glad to hear I had my heart broken?" Because _seriously, that is just weird._

He leaned forward and she could feel his breath near her ear. She shivered and the son of a bitch noticed. She could practically see his smirk. "If it can be broken... It means it still works." He leaned back just a bit, but their faces were still inches apart.

"That is weirdly poetical and extremely romantic."

"It's what I live for," he muttered, and, with that, he finally - _finally_ \- pressed his mouth against hers and she felt light as a feather. She also thanked heavens this window was near the door, protected by a wall and hiding them from everyone's eyes.

His lips felt soft and tender over hers and that kiss was completely different from the ones they shared the other night. That night's had been hungry and passionate and impatient, both eager to feel skin against skin as they stumbled over everything they met on the way. This one was slow, like he was trying to be as careful as he could - as if she was even _thinking_ of pulling away.

Her hands travelled up his chest - she felt his strong heartbeat, as fast as hers - and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him further towards her as he did the same, one arm snaking around her waist as the other hand skimmed up and down her back, making her shiver _again_.

They didn't come up for air until they needed to and, when they did, it was only a couple of seconds before they dived in again.

She didn't see how Ruby peeked from behind the wall at some point and actually _cheered_ \- as silently as she could - and spread the word between the girls that Emma Swan had found her ' _twu wuv_ '. She left the guys for Killian.

Also, she didn't know what would happen when Liam found out. He would probably make them group hug.

David, though... _Good luck, Killy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idek anymore, I just wrote it non stop and posted the result


	35. Drunken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not my original idea and it just  
> Became this way
> 
> And gUYS CHRISTMAS IS ONLY THREE DAYS AWAY AND IDEK WHY IM SO EXCITED

**Drunken**

 

"Killian, _no_."

"But _Swaaan_ \--"

"No, you are drunk and absolutely cannot make decisions without thinking straight and you know why."

They were walking back home after she picked him up from christmasy guy's night at the Rabbit Hole. And he was drunk. _Very_ drunk.

The good think about drunken Killian was that he was _romantic_ , but not  _handsy_. He rarely tried to go to bed with her in _that_ sense when he was drunk. Differently than the other guys she'd dated. _I'm_ not _dating him. Damn it_.

"Come on, love, I know you want a boat too!" He was begging now, pulling on her jacket sleeve like a 4 year-old. " _Please_ , Swan."

"Jones, you will not find a boat at sale now; it's 2 in the morning!"

"Then we'll do it tomorrow!" He suddenly halted his steps, frowning at the ground. "Well, technically it _is_ tomorrow..." He snorted and continued to walk. "But you know what I mean."

"Ugh, _fine_! I'll help you buy a boat tomorrow." He wouldn't remember it anyways. Why was she the one he asked, though? He could have awkwardly asked _any_ other girl at the bar or one of the guys. Why her?

He slung his drunken arm around her shoulders and motioned - threw, really - his other hand towards the night sky. "You see those stars, Swan?," he purred next to her ear. She did _not_ shiver. "They shine for fine ladies like you."

"'Fine ladies', is that your best compliment?," she laughed, because Jesus, he was _so drunk._

"Of course not, but I'm _drunk_ , so you'll have to forgive my drunk self for the sorry excuse of a charmer I make while I'm drunk. I'm drunk, by the way."

She continued to laugh and she knew he would join her sooner or later. "You are so drunk."

"I'm also _quite_ into you."

She felt a tug at the pit of her stomach. _Wait, what?_

 _God, Emma, he's drunk, he doesn't mean it._ The thought helped easing the turns her stomach was doing, but only a little. She stopped before her steps faltered and kept up with him. _Try to look unfazed._ "Oh, really? Why don't you show it?"

"Well, first of all, you don't seen take my shit, so there's no point in flirting with you. Not _deliberately_ , at least," he adds, drunkly chuckling as he lost his balance for a moment and had to lean on her so he wouldn't fall to the ground and break his nose. "Second of all, you're _extremely_ beautiful with an incredible personality. And I've known you long enough to know that that's _you_ and not some kind of mask you normally put to strangers or people you completely despise."

At that, her steps stopped. He looked up at her, slight confusion in his heavy lidded - _beautiful_ \- blue eyes. "Do you really mean all of this?"

"Of course I do, Emma," he said without hesitance. "I mean, why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're drunk, maybe?"

"And what, just because I'm drunk you'll assume I can't think straight?" He was standing in front of her now and his eyes looked a bit less glassy and a little clearer.

"You were just talking about buying a _boat_."

He broke eye contact, quickly glancing downwards, just to meet her gaze again. "But I'm sober enough to say that I am very much attracted to you."

Even though his speak was slow and slurred, she tried to use her lie detector on him. It kept silent. Did it even work on drunk people?

"Killian, you're drunk, let's just take you home," she spoke softly, stepping forward and walking down the street, pulling him with her. She could feel his eyes digging a hole to the side of her head, but she kept hers front. She couldn't admit to _herself_ that she had a crush on her friend, someone she had met during dark and hard times and one of the wonderful people that helped her through it. He was one of the few who never _truly_ left her side, being there every time she needed someone and holding her on place. She could say she held him in place too.

"Emma...," her thoughts were interrupted after a few minutes by his low murmur. "Do you... Do you feel the same way?"

 _Of course I do_. "Can we not have this conversation right now?" It was strangely painful, because he was drunk and there was a possibility that he didn't even _actually_ like her that way and, if that was the case, she was sure she wouldn't be able to face him the next morning. "Not like this, Killian..."

He looked like he would start talking again and she released a relieved breath she didn't know she was holding when she saw the door for his building.

"We're here," she interrupted him before he had the chance to utter a word.

After they entered the building, she helped him climb the steps to his apartment at the fourth floor. When they reached his door, she held out a hand in a silent request for his key.

"Back pocket," he wiggled his eyebrows. She glared at him and he obliged, fishing the keys from his pocket and giving them to her. His question kept ringing in her ears: _do you feel the same way?_

_Do I? Of course I do._

"You go lay down, I'll be here until you fall asleep."

"Can you stay?," he asked shyly, and she noticed how there wasn't a slight shadow of some kind of insinuation or suggestion in his voice. He just wanted her to stay.

It wasn't like she'd never done the same before. She was sure the many nights she had woken up with a massive hangover and had found Killian making breakfast in her kitchen only happened because she asked him to. She always knew he had slept on her couch and that never helped ease the guilt she felt when she saw him stretching his neck or back the next day.

She nodded and saw a flash of relief in his eyes. Guiding him to his room, she waited outside the door as he changed and came in after he was in his PJs. She tucked him in the bed - actually _tucked_ , like a _child_ -, lifting the covers to his shoulders and saw him sigh as he closed her eyes. It made her smile.

When she turned to leave, she felt his hand on her wrist, pulling her back. "Emma." She didn't climb into the covers, but sat on the edge of the bed, her side glued to his chest. Somewhere in the way between turning and sitting, his hand had entwined their fingers and she noticed how tender his grasp on her left hand was. He opened his eyes as she saw how tired they looked. "Thank you."

"Just go to sleep, Killia--"

"No, really. Thank you for being there for me when I needed." She tilted her head, warm spreading across her chest as he saw his eyes shut from exhaustion and his breathing even out.

She couldn't stop her hand from rising to his face and brushing the dark hair from his forehead. And she also ignored the way the corners of his mouth twitched at the touch. Because he was still kind of drunk. And it still was too painful.

She attempted to get up, but his grip on her hand was still strong. She pursed her lips as she removed it finger by finger, and her heart ached when he reached for it again in his sleep. Before going to the couch to settle in for the night, she walked to the cupboard on the corridor and grabbed some aspirin, alongside with a cup of water from the kitchen, and left both on his bedside table.

She lingered her look more than she wanted to on his peaceful face and she noted how young and relaxed his face looked as he slept. It almost made her crawl into bed with him and feel his body warmth as they pressed together and _no_ , she would _not_ think of it because it would make her want it more.

Turning her back, she walked to the couch and plopped on it, grabbing the quilt he kept over it and covering herself, still trying to forget his smell - even if it was present every freaking where.

It felt like ten minutes had passed when she was awaken by his muffled cough - probably from the bathroom.

Rising from her place on the sofa, she stretched and paced to the bathroom's door, leaning her ear on it and hearing the sound of running water. It sounded like the sink. She knocked three times. "Killian?"

" _Swan?_ " He sounded confused and the door sprang open. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He didn't look offended or anything, just surprised.

She, however, laughed at his lack of memory. "Wow, you were really drunk, weren't you? I brought you home, you idiot."

"Oh." He furrowed his eyebrows and squinted a bit at the sunlight outside as they reached the living room.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like crap. Why did you stay?"

He really didn't remember. That proved her assumptions right; he was drunk and none that he had said to her the previous night was from his true self.

"You asked me to," she replied softly as they sat on the couch. She couldn't help but notice how easy and natural all of it suddenly felt to her.

He chuckled hoarsely. "And you attended the wishes of a hopelessly drunken man?"

"You always do it for me, I just thought I'd do it for you this once."

"That is very thoughtful of you. And now, you are going to tell me why are you acting strange."

Freaking open book. "What?"

"You've been unquiet since I woke up. What's wrong, what did I say last night?"

"W-- how do you know it was something you said last night?"

"Because you're acting strange. And that always happens when I say something bad or weird, like that one time at the Zoo."

She grimaced at the memories. "You know, I never looked at monkeys the same way again."

"It wasn't that bad, really."

"You told me to imagine them with wings and _married_ to me; it was bad."

He chuckled and gave her the _okay-now-spit-it-out_ look and she couldn't stand it anymore.

Sighing, she answered. "You said you had feelings for me."

His smirk fell and was replaced by his goddamn lost puppy eyes. "What?"

"But you were drunk and I know you didn't mean it s--"

"I never said I didn't mean it...," he whispered, and that shut her up.

"What?" Because really, was he just messing with her or...?

"I never said I didn't mean it, Swan," he said, louder and clearer.

"But- Killian, we've been friends for years now and--"

"And I've never told you how bloody amazing you are." She blushed and knew he noticed, but he carried on. "I never got to tell you I had 'feelings for you' pretty much since the day we met. It's not exactly secret, though. Ruby knew, I gathered she had... Told you, or something."

"She didn't."

"Well, but I do. Since I've met you I've been somewhat happier and I noticed that about five hours after Dave introduced us. I didn't say anything because I didn't have the courage to do so and because you're his sister, it would be a kind of an ass move to do so."

"It wouldn't..."

"It wouldn't?"

"No. I mean, David would be _pissed_ , but he would respect my life choices." Wait, did she just admit she also had feeling for him? And that she wanted something to happen? _Well, screw it, right?_

"He would res-- What are you saying?" He was perched up on his seat now, fully facing her as he took in how actually serious she was.

"I'm saying that I haven't been... Well, _completely_ immune to your 'charms' or whatever..."

"Why didn't you say it earlier, we would've saved a lot of time--"

"I didn't say I was ready for it."

"Oh, but you _are_!" He spoke it with such faith she was starting to believe him. "It wouldn't be hard, you know? We already spend an awful lot of time together."

"But with others."

"Do you see others now, Emma?" She swallowed as she shook her head slowly. He chuckled again - more like a huffed laugh, as if he couldn't believe that was actually happening (not that she could). "You're ready, Emma. And you'd be happy. I would probably be the happiest man in the whole world, and I know this is way too much for you to take, but if you would only try," he grabbed her hand, his palm warm against hers. She couldn't ignore the fact that they just _fit_. "I'm sure you wouldn't regret."

She kept silence, eyeing their joined hands. Should she do this? If it didn't work out, she would be throwing one of the best friendships she had ever had out of the window an that thought didn't please her at all. _But what if it works...?_

"Emma?"

She looked at him, and only managed to flash him a tiny smile before she was overwhelmed by his warm embrace. His arms were around her waist as he hugged her close to his body and he felt his smile against the crook of her neck. She absent-mindedly breathed in his scent and was secretly ecstatic that she was finally able to do so without looking weird.

She lost herself in his touch, his body against her so tender and warm and cozy and he just felt like _home_. And there was nothing Emma had ever wanted more in her whole life than a home. So she took it.

She obviously did not regret it, and Killian showed to be a _hell_ of a boyfriend. Not that she would complain, because really, it wasn't everyday that you got to snuggle in bed with an extremely dashing human who looked at you like you were his sun. Not that she did anything different. He _was_ her sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, people, I have made a hard decision and I've come to the conclusion of ending this collection for good at 40 chapters. 
> 
> I'm trying to think of a new multi chapter idea, and I think I've just come up with it, so I'm gone get a break from Timeless. Or an ending. 
> 
> But really, once I feel the writer's block attacking again, you'll hear of a new collection, which will lead to me abandoning another story. Because I can't actually compromise with more than six chapters. Oh well.


	36. Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, till oneshot #40, I'll be posting Christmasy stories. It's decided.

**Thunder**

 

"... _Detroit, London and New York delayed..._ "

Emma stopped listening and groaned. Apparently, loads of flights had been delayed by an oncoming storm and she was alone in that airport and all she wanted to do was to get home in time for Christmas. Of course, she would probably spend the holidays alone with a lot of ice cream and hot chocolate with her dear account on Netflix and three hundred pounds of blankets around her, but that was enough for her to want to get home _quick_.

And now she was stuck in freaking _Portland_ in the other side of the country with no one to try to soothe her. _Hella holiday._

Melting a bit more in the torture they called chairs in front of her gate, she took out her phone and despair took her when she saw it only had 12% of battery left. How would she be entertained during an uncertain amount of time without it? Groaning again, she tossed it on her bag sitting on the seat next to her and rubbed her face with her hands. _This is going to be a long night._

Emma looked around, studying the people she would have to share a flight with. So far there was a big woman who looked eager to go back to her home and five thousand cats; a guy in a suit with a greying hair and a permanent grimace; a ridiculously attractive black haired who was sitting across from her; a mother with a teenager and her cellphone; a family of about five people, all round and blonde; and a fair amount of normal people like herself who looked as annoyed as her.

She didn't miss the way the blue eyed dashing god in front of her crossed gazes with her and smirked. And she didn't feel butterflies on her stomach because she didn't even _know_ him and he could be an assh--

Her thoughts were interrupted by a thunder outside. Emma did _not_ like thunder. She looked like Marley in _Marley & Me _and she was _not_ proud of it. The storm had apparently come.

She shivered, unconsciously gripping the armrests until her knuckles were white and she _refused_ to meet anyone's looks, so she kept her eyes on the ground.

Another thunder roared, louder, and she was starting to shake. Why was she so afraid of something she _knew_ wouldn't harm her? It was hell since she lived alone. Storms were her nightmare. _Damn it._

She allowed her gaze to go upwards and meet Blue Eyes'a eyes and she regret immediately; she became aware of how he was staring at her and noticed _he_ noticed she was completely _terrified_. She could see worry in his gaze. And she was scared to know why.

She took out her phone in a weak attempt of distraction. She didn't have any games - she always thought they were too easy or too _stupidly_ hard -, so all she did was go up and down through her settings and contact list.

Her useless attempts halted to a stop when she saw someone sit directly beside her from the corner of her eye. She slowly looked up and met Blue Eyes eyes. He was smiling.

"Evening, lass."

 _Raper. Murderer. Kidnapper. Corrupt politician._ "Hi."

"You alright there?," he threw a piece of something - _Doritos_. She was suddenly very hungry - in his mouth and chewed and she just looked at him because _why is he trying to make a conversation_.

"Do I know you?," she raised an eyebrow.

He held out his clean hand. "Killian Jones." She stared at it and looked back up at him. "Come on, I'm not gonna rob you, I'm just trying to distract you."

"Distract me?"

"From the storm."

She huffed. "Why would I need distraction for the storm?"

"Because you look absolutely terrified by it, maybe?" He gave her a tired look, but she didn't back down and continued to eye him suspiciously. "Look, I do this a lot, I just tend to feel this sudden urge to help someone who looks distressed."

"I'm not in distress."

"But you are a damsel," he smirked, and thankfully didn't roam his eyes on her body, fixing them on her own. _Wait, is he flirting? God, I met him five seconds ago._

She rolled her eyes. "What do you really want?"

He didn't seem to back down. "Seriously, I just wanted to help. I work at a daycare."

"W- _good_ for you," she sassed.

"No, I meant that, _by_ working at a daycare, I can notice things about someone other people can't."

"How is that even _relevant_ at a daycare?"

"I notice when a child is, _well_ , when a child has an accident in her pants..." Emma couldn't hold back the chuckle at that, because she was talking about kid's poop with a person she had just met and she _wasn't_ uncomfortable. Which was a first. At least with someone she didn't know well like David or Mary Margaret. "I can tell when a child is hiding something or when a child is _scared to death_ ," he motions the Doritos package at her.

"I'm not a child," she muttered, pouting slightly.

He chuckled at her childishness and offered her the package. "And you also didn't notice the five thunders that sounded as we spoke." _Wait, what?_ Indeed, at the moment he said that, one roared outside and she winced. _Oh, come on, don't tell me it's working_. "So there. I _can_ help. Just try to maintain a casual conversation with me and you're not even going to see when the storm stops."

Even if she wouldn't admit it, she was thankful. So she gave into it and buried her hand in the Doritos package. He grinned and she couldn't get why he was so happy.

They fell into an easy conversation about children - _what_ \- and she noticed he was not bad at all. Sure, he was really good looking, the black disheveled hair contrasting with his _blue_ -blue eyes and the light stubble on his jaw, the natural blush on his cheeks and ears and the overly-expressive eyebrows, not to mention how he wore a simple dark pair of jeans and a grey hoodie and still looked like a model out of a magazine. But also his being, his personality. He had a way to use words that were comfortable and made her sleepy with his deep voice and lilt of an accent she couldn't decipher. It made her want to hear more.

"How long has this storm been happening?," she asked, again conscious of the thunders outside.

He glanced at his watch. "About two hours." _No way._ She had been talking to him for _two hours_ and didn't even realise. He chuckled when she widened her eyes. "I told you, Swan, I'm good company."

Somewhere in those two hours, she noticed this weird kind of magnetism between them. She always felt this _need_ to lean into him when they were silent and just savour the body heat she felt from where she was sitting. But she couldn't because it would be weird.

She just felt this massive attraction towards him and it was nearly engulfing her. All she could think about was how gorgeous he was and how nice he was and how perfect he was and she kept inwardly slapping herself to _wake up_ because she would probably stop talking to him once she was on the plane.

"So, Swan, which are your seats?," he asked her at some point.

"Um..." She checked her ticket. "D43. What about you?"

"G57. We're close." Why was he making sure they were close? Why did she enjoy it?!

She chuckled. "Yeah, you can save me if I sit next to someone extremely disgusting or extremely horny."

"Self appreciation is everything, love."

" _Hey_!"

 

* * *

 

Emma flopped down on her uncomfortable seat and looked out the window. The space was tiny, but it was only a six-hour flight. _I'm gonna die here._

"Swan!," she heard her name being whispered. Raising her head, she spotted Killian in the middle row, a few seats back. He waved and she giggled, waving back. _Idiot_. An idiot she had just met and was already extremely fond of. _Whatever_.

She settled her things, putting her bag under her seat and pulling out her book. She also took out her charger and phone, so it wouldn't die. Even if it was hanging in 2%. _Damn it._

She heard a few troubled voices somewhere in the back and decided to ignore it. Until Killian's call came.

"W-- _Emma_!" She turned around, startled, and saw a slightly pleading look in his eyes. "Could you please tell this gentleman you're my girlfriend and that you love me very much?"

She eyed the man beside him - early thirties, hot as hell (not as hot as Killy there) - as he glared at her. _Ooohh... Got it._ She sent Killian a silent warning she understood.

"It's true, why?" The man huffed and fell back on his seat, a defeated look on his face. Killian discreetly mouthed ' _thank you_ ' and she grinned in reply. _We're even._

"Okay," the guy resumed, getting up from his seat again. Emma noticed their tiny confront was getting the attention of a few people around as she saw a teenager hold back a snort. "Why aren't you sitting with her then?"

"Because he was out of the city when I bought my tickets," she answered, impressed at how calm her voice was.

"I could switch places, if you want," the woman sitting next to her said softly.

The man threw her a dirty look and turned it back at Killian. "Fine," he scoffed. "If you really are her boyfriend, than prove it."

Emma raised an eyebrow because _really?_

"How the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?!," Killian asked, disbelief and hidden amusement in his voice. He was frowning, but she could see how bright his eyes were.

The man narrowed his eyes at Emma and turned to look at him. She knew he had something on his mind and was just making suspense, and she was truly scared of the suggestion.

She had all the right to be.

"Kiss her."

A few kids and teenagers - and one adult - echoed ' _oooh_ 's and her grin fell slightly. _Keep in the character, too many witnesses._

"What?," Killian made it sound like it was ridiculous he was being challenged that, but she could see he was sort of desperate.

"Kiss. Her."

He raised an eyebrow at her and she detected an apology in his eyes, dismissing it with a look of her own. Her heartbeat raced as she watched him standing up and striding towards her, crashing his lips on hers in front of _everybody_.

Emma Swan wouldn't normally do this. Why is Emma Swan doing this?

A few teenage boys catcalled, but she didn't care because oh my _God, he is a fantastic kisser._ His lips were tender and soft against hers, moving in perfect synchrony. Even if the kiss wasn't long - because god, they had an _audience_ -, it was long enough for her to savour the taste of his lips, his scent and how warm his hands were on her cheeks.

She tried to keep in mind that she had just met him, but that didn't set her internal alarm off. So she didn't worry. She just _felt_.

It ended much too quickly for her liking and they just heard the faint and frustrated " _Fine_!" coming from the man and the soft "I am _definitely_ switching places, dears" from the sweet woman who was sitting next to her.

All they did for about five seconds were stare into each other's eyes in pure awe, because it didn't feel bad _or_ wrong.

She then shook herself out of her inner admiring and mouthed ' _a one-time thing_ '. He nodded and pulled away to fetch his bags, coming to sit next to her for a really long time.

Through the flight, they had played ridiculous games, talked about nothing and she was nearly falling asleep when he poked her side. Flinching, she glared at him, but he was motioning with his head to Fussy Dude.

Fussy Dude was staring at Killian's head and she couldn't hold her laugh. It was just _ridiculous_.

"God, he's really attached to you, now." She handed him a portable mirror she had in her bag as she had an idea. "Watch this."

She flung one arm around his shoulder and pecked his cheek lovingly. Killian chuckled as he saw Fussy Dude's fists tightening and him taking a few calming breaths.

"That was incredible, you're a really good actress."

"And I'm tired. It's 11pm and I usually go to bed at, like, 2. Wake me up if anything happens."

"Like if the plane crashes?," he suggested and she smacked his arm.

"Shut up, don't put ideas in my head. If I have nightmares, I'll blame you."

He rose his hands in defeat and opened his left arm. She eyed the space - that looked _really_ comfortable - and then looked back up at him. He raised both eyebrows and she just shrugged, telling herself that it was because of Fussy Dude. Even if it _really_ wasn't.

Snuggling into him, she sighed, breathing in his scent - _amazing_ , by the way - and falling into deep slumber before she could mumble 'goodnight'.

Later, she was woken by Killian's soft shaking and the whispered "Swan, we're here" into her ear. She shivered at how rough his voice sounded and she gathered he had slept too. Both of them were apparently very comfortable.

They left the plane holding hands because Fussy Dude was exhaustedly glaring at them again and she was glad to see how hard his look on their joined hands was. It was just extremely _amusing_ ; she couldn't help it.

She didn't let Killian help her with her luggage and they shared an awkward silence as they waited for their cabs.

"Well, Swan," he said, grabbing her hand and rising it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on her knuckles and making her blush furiously. _Stop being so_ perfect _, for God's sake._ "It was an extremely delightful pleasure to meet you. And, if you don't mind, I'm not exactly ready to let you go yet, so I'm gonna need your phone number for other guys trying to hit on me in a bar or something."

She laughed and unblocked her phone, handing it to him. "I'd be glad to be your saviour again."

He held it back to her when he was done and gazed into her eyes, a small smile still on his lips. "Thank you, Swan."

"No problem, it was quite amusing to see you despair."

"No, I mean thank you for making these last few hours something I'll not forget." Yes, she blushed at that too. _Goddamn British perfection._

"It's not like I will, so, I guess thank you too."

"You are very welcome." When her cab stopped in front of them, he brushed a strand of her hair behind her shoulder and winked. "See you 'round?"

"Yeah, see ya," she grinned back an entered the cab.

She did see him again. A week later, actually. On a date with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how this happened, but it started at the dentist.


	37. Portrait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LACK OF POSTS. I made the terrible decision of starting to watch House M. D. and now I spend about fifteen hours of my day on Netflix.
> 
> Btw, whoop Chameron

**Portrait**

 

" _Oh my God_ ," Emma heard her friend's exclamation from the living room.

"Ruby?," she called, dropping the dishes in the sink and raising an eyebrow as she walked to her side. "What's wrong?"

The brunette just looked up at her with widened eyes and pointed at her laptop's screen. Confused, Emma spied what she was so dumbfounded about and _oh my God._

It was her. _Her_ picture. In an ad. Well, it wasn't exactly a _picture_ ; it was a totally colourful painting of her. Her eyes were still green, but greener; her skin was pinker; her hair colour was more of an egg-yellow than blonde-yellow, flowing behind her shoulders in a cascade of paint; her lashes were a little longer and everything seemed to have more colour in it. The worst part is that it looked strangely familiar. Who made a painting of her, this beautiful portrait that was on the internet and rolling around the world attracting attention?

She looked at the sponsor - some kind of Christmas beneficent art exposition next Saturday, nothing much -, but, as Ruby clicked on the website, it told them that very painting was the spotlight of the _whole_ exposition.

The artist, Killian Jones - _why does that name sound so familiar?_  - had an interview with the event's representative the week before and Emma's heart raced as the video buffered.

 _"So, Killian, where did you find inspiration for such beautiful piece?,"_ the representative asked.

 _"Oh, I didn't have an inspiration. It's an actual person,"_ Killian - why did he sound so familiar? The accent, the voice...

_"Ooh, who is this lovely lady then?"_

_"Oh, it was a good friend of mine at uni--"_

Ruby paused. "Oh God."

"Oh. My. God."

"Is this actually happening, is my best friend worldly known as a painting everyone likes?," Ruby asked, her tone laced in awe.

"I think so."

"Where and when did you meet our hot messiah?," the brunette asked, leaning into the screen to have a better look at the artist's eyes and stubble and dark hair and perfect face...

"Apparently at college, but I don--" She paused, the memories rushing into her mind. "Oh my God. No way."

"What?! What is it?!"

"This is Killian Jones, my _geeky_ college friend."

"And how exactly did you _not_ recognise him before?!," Ruby squealed, hysterical.

"He used to be skinny and wear big thick glasses and dorky shirts and God, he's changed _a lot_ ," she observed.

"I can see that, he's a Greek god. Why didn't you keep contact?"

"He left. Navy, I think... I cried."

"Aww, poor Emma had a crush on Blue Eyed Nerd."

"Shut up, you're practically drooling over him now," Emma defended.

"Oh my, Swan, are you _jealous_?," Ruby's eyebrow shot up.

"Shush," she said, hitting space bar and continuing the video.

_"--and I was trying to get a major in Arts, as you can see. One of the assignments was to paint something or someone and transform it in a colourful mix of various tones and brushes."_

_"So you're saying this girl you painted was uglier than as you pictured her on the canvas?"_

_"Oh, no, not at all. She was...,"_ he trailed off, a small smile gracing his lips. It was the same smile. _"She was beautiful."_

 _"Are you smitten until this very day, Killian?,"_ the woman laughed, and he chuckled along with her.

 _"I never said I was back then, but aye, definitely."_  

 _What?_ He used to _like_ her?

"Oh my God, he had a crush on you. We need to stalk him everywhere," Ruby said, opening another tabs and typing Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, any other kinds of social networks a person could have. They found his Twitter, nothing more and a Ruby had the brilliant idea to tweet him.

"Wait, what are you going to write?"

"Relax, Ems, I'm not gonna _embarrass_ you," her friend assured, which obviously made Emma a lot more unquiet.

_@lieutenantjones Killian Jones, we found your muse._

"What are you gonna do, Ruby? Secretly toss him my address and having him come around midnight to murder me with a butter knife?"

"No, you silly, I'm gonna give him your phone number as soon as he replies."

It took a while - three days. You could say Ruby was going up on the walls until he finally answered with ' _@theredwolf is this some bloody kind of a joke?_ ' and her roommate literally screeched out loud -, but he did and Ruby sent him Emma's phone number via private message, alongside with ' _the code is Jolly Roger_ '.

A day later, she was woken at 8AM by her phone's buzzing. Groaning, she reached over and unblocked her phone, sitting up when she saw it was probably him.

_Jolly Roger?_

**_Killian?_ **

_Who is this?_

_Oh, yeah, he doesn't know who I am yet._

_**Emma, Emma Swan. We met at college and my face is sort of known around the world.** _

_Swan? Is that really you?_

**_No, I'm actually a psychotic murderer_ ** **_who enjoys tricking people into thinking I'm their college best friend_ **

She sent him a picture of the stuffed you he won her in a carnival once: a big fluffy yellow duck with an orange beak and feet.

_**Does it ring any bell?** _

_Aye, I won you that and you still owe me 20$._

She laughed out loud at his reply. It _was_ true.

Their talk was interrupted by frantic footsteps coming from the corridor and her door yanking open, a sleepy yet joyful Ruby grinning like a wolf striding towards her. "Is it him?" Before she had the chance to reply, the brunette threw herself on her bed. "It is, isn't it?," her muffled voice came from the pillow.

Emma chuckled and patted her friend's shoulder and continued to text Killian, leaving Ruby on her bed and going to the kitchen - still texting, mind you - to make her breakfast.

At some point, Killian suggested a phone call and she eagerly accepted.

Hearing his voice again, a bit deeper and more mature - it definitely did things to her -, was like a bucket of rainbows and soft pillowed clouds being poured over her. It was like going back in time, to the late hours in the football field they spent together because they didn't have anyone else; to the laughter and the sudden happiness she felt when she was around him; or when they ended up passing out at the common hall's couch after a long time studying or talking. It felt like going back to the time she felt she had a _home_.

He became her home after two months, when they literally bumped on the street. She kissed him right there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I get to post all of the remaining chapters before 2015. I already wrote the last one. Brace yourselves. Jk.


	38. Online

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more won't hurt, will it?

**Online**

_Merry Christmas, Swan_

_**It's the 23rd, Jones.** _

_Christmas will come, love. Then you can read this message again_

_What are you doing?_

_**Procrastinating. You?** _

_I'm talking to you, does it sound like I'm doing anything productive?_

_What are you watching?_

_**How do you know I'm on Netflix? I could be doing anything** _

_You're watching Sherlock again, aren't you_

_**Yes** _

_*flicks your nose*_

_***flicks back*** _

_You're such a child._

_**I know. At least I have a friend. My sandbox won't be empty, then** _

_Was that supposed to sound dirty or is my mind in the gutter_

_**Oh my god** _

_What, you said it!_

_**You can't spend one conversation without making an innuendo!** _

_I know! I thought you liked that about me!_

_**I do...** _

_Aha._

_**Shut up** _

_You love it._

_***closes door*** _

_Hey, Swan!_

_*knocks*_

_**NO.** _

_Do you wanna build a snowman?_

_***groans endlessly*** _

_Come on let's go and play in your sandbox_

_**Shut up, Jones** _

_Okay, bye..._

_**OH MY GOD, STOP MEMORIZING FROZEN SONGS** _

_I can't, they're way too good._

_**It's a children's movie** _

_It's really not_

_**I know that, doesn't mean you do.** _

_That didn't make sense._

_**Goodnight, Killian.** _

_Sweet dreams, Emma._

* * *

_Merry Christmas, Swan_

_**Five hours to go. How's London?** _

_Like crap._

_**Why aren't you watching the fireworks?** _

_Because I can hear them. And I refuse to deliberately walk into certain death by vital organs compression_

_**Have you been watching Grey's Anatomy** _

_Close._

_***his head repeatedly on the wall*** _

_Did you work today?_

_**No, no cases.** _

_That's odd_

_**Why?** _

_You always seem to be chasing bad guys._

_**Excellent deduction, Captain Obvious.** _

_I meant that it's odd you don't have ANYTHING today._

_**It's Christmas Eve, who will make the effort to get arrested today** _

_Point taken._

* * *

 

_Merry Christmas, Swan_

_**Are you gonna keep repeating that?** _

_Yes._

_I know you just shrugged._

_**Oh my, you know me so well.** _

_Come on, Swan, what are you doing?_

_**Right now?** _

_Aye_

_**Eating half a bowl of ice cream and trying not to freeze my extremities.** _

_That is highly contradictory, love._

_**I know** _

_Then why are you doing it?_

_**Because I'm alone in Christmas. What else should I do** _

_You're not alone_

_**You don't count, you're thousands of miles away.** _

_Does it count if I'm at the airport?_

_**What?** _

_What's your address, Swan?_

_**You're here?!** _

_Address._

_**Phone call.** _

* * *

 

_**Did you get lost?** _

_Aye._

_**Where are you, what do you see?** _

_I see an alien space ship hovering over the Empire State._

_**Shut up, I'm serious. Do you really see the Empire State?** _

_Yes._

_**You're not driving, are you?** _

_No, I got a cab and stopped at the wrong street._

_**How did you manage that, Jesus Christ...** _

_I don't know. So, where do I go_

_**Okay, you're in the left side of the street or the right one?** _

_Um, right_

_**Turn left** _

_Aye_

_**Hold out your arm toward the street** _

_What is this going to do?_

_**Did a cab just stop by?** _

_Aye._

_**Get in it. AND GIVE THE GUY THE ADDRESS.** _

_Okay, see you in fifteen minutes_

_**I can't believe you're actually here** _

_Neither can I, love._

* * *

 

_Is the front of your building grey? Oh wait! THEY ALL ARE._

_**Shut up and get up here.** _

_What are you going to do with me when I get there?_

_**I have absolutely no idea.** _

_Better think quick, I just called the lift._

_**Don't worry.** _

* * *

 

_Love, did you see my jacket?_

_**It's 8 am, Killian, come back to bed. Why are you asking me this by text** _

_I thought it would be a less aggressive way to wake you up_

_**It wasn't** _

_Apologies_

_**Come back to bed, you appeared in my life last night. I'm not done with the cuddling** _

_It's not like I'm going back to Dublin now, love_

_**Come back to bed** _

_On my way_

* * *

 

_Have you seen our old messages? The last one's from eight months ago._

_**Wow, that is weird. When did we stop texting each other?** _

_Eight months ago?_

* * *

 

_**Haven't used this in a while, but since you're not picking up, I'll just leave it here. Can you take Jolly to the vet, I think she's limping.** _

_Sure. Which paw?_

_**Um, number two.** _

_Doesn't matter, I'll actually understand it once I see it._

* * *

 

_**Hey, did you pick Liam up at the daycare?** _

_Of course, love, I'm not THAT bad at remembering things._

_**Where are you two?** _

_At the park?_

_**Without mommy?! Blasphemy.** _

_If you rush, you can catch us on time._

_**On my way.** _

* * *

_**That woman is insufferable.** _

_Don't worry, love, Zelena's not bothering you again._

_**Why would she even bother me in the first place?!** _

_Because she has an inexplicable pleasure at verbally torturing people with endless speeches and a bad attitude._

_**Point taken.** _

_**Have to go, Liam's whining about the TV. See you tonight.** _

_Okay, I love you two._

_**I love you too, Killian. And Liam says it's time for daddy to be home. Plus squeals.** _

_Tell him I'm getting off early._

_**Okay, he's squealing louder. That was a lame decision.** _

_My bad. I love you._

_**So do I** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn't hurt.


	39. School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there, guys.  
> By the way, this one's not Christmas related because I only remembered this critery I made up when I was near the end. Eh, screw it.

**School**

 

"... It's not as hard as it sounds, people. I'm sure you _can_ make this essay in a week. Just search the internet, do everything you can to just--"

A knock on the door interrupted Emma's encouraging speech to the lazy asses she taught English to. She glanced over when it opened to reveal-- _oh shit._

Professor Killian Jones. She had a giddy school girl crush on him since he joined the docent group. The offensively good looks and striking personality made every girl - and a few boys - look like a giddy school girl whenever they talked to him. Black hair, dashing blue eyes and the inexistent beer belly every other male teacher had made him look like a model, even with the sweater and tie. The smirk and the stubble did things to her, and she absolutely did not like it.

"Miss Swan?" A few female students snickered when he spoke. The accent made him look even sexier, for God's sake. "Principal Mills requests your presence in her office." Most of the class echoed ' _oooooh_ ' and she partially glared at them. "Oh, quiet, kids. All teachers are." She managed to hold back the stupid giggle that would have left her mouth, but not the tiny smile.

"Keep it down or I'll send another three pages as homework." The whole class groaned and she smirked victoriously.

She walked towards Killian and out the door when he made space.

"Do you know why she's gonna eat our heads today?," she asked, looking up at him and trying not to notice how the beard made his jaw look _even_ _sharper_.

"I don't know if she'll eat our heads; August was quite calm when he communicated me. Maybe just rip out our hearts and crush them while maniacally laughing," he shrugged.

She snorted. "How comforting."

They were silent until they reached the principal's door. Other teachers were already there, and she blushed when Kathryn, Chemistry teacher, and Sidney, the school paper supervisor, whispered to each other when Emma and Killian approached. She chose to ignore when their looks fixed on them. _I thought gossiping was for the teenage girls_...

"What do you think they're whispering about?," Killian muttered without looking at her, voice covered by the other dozen talking.

 _Damn it, Jones._ "I don't know," she lied.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the principal's door opening. Regina Mills, the queen of the school, sauntered out and stopped in front of the opposite wall.

"Alright, people," she started, catching everyone's attention. "I have a proposal to make. I want you, teacher, to form a pair with another teacher and create an activity that involves both subjects. The project's due next month. Now go back to your classes." And with that, she walked back into her office.

The buzz of talking followed as the teachers tried to form the pairs or explain the project to the ones who didn't get it. She was about to ask Mary Margaret, 7th grade English teacher, to be her partner, because, no matter how she wanted, she simply could _not_ be Killian's, when she felt a hand on her arm.

"Swan?" _Well, shit._ "Would you like to be my partner?" She looked over and saw he had a smirk on his face. _Smug bastard._

She swallowed before answering. "O-okay."

The growth of the smirk that followed made Emma herself smile. He was just too adorable.

 

* * *

 

"Miss Swan?" She turned around to the tiny voice. It was Roland. "Where did you go yesterday?"

A few agreeing voices sounded and she frowned. Well, she had to tell them, anyway.

She closed the blue marker and sighed. "Principal Mills proposed a new project due next month," she explained. "She wants the teachers to form pairs and make an activity involving both subjects."

"Who is your pair?," a girl giggled.

She tried not to fidget with the marker on her hand. "Mr Jones," she replied blankly.

Giggles filled the room and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _I thought 15 year olds would me more mature._ Turning around to continue writing, she allowed a tiny smile to grace her lips.

 

* * *

 

"Swan?"

"Oh, hey, Killian."

"Project's due Wednesday. How's the class going?"

She closed her book when he sat across from her. She also ignored the students who looked over. _Nosy girls.._. Why did the teachers have to lunch in the cafeteria?

She shrugged. "They're all really excited about it, which is a first. Are they like this in your classes?"

"Pretty much," he chuckled.

She furrowed her eyebrows, a grin on her lips. "But you teach History. That's lame."

"Oi, History's not _lame_. It's fairly interesting."

"Yes, because everyone wants to know about where Napoleon is buried," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. 

He hesitated before replying. "He's not _buried_..."

"Oh my God, I don't care," she laughed, widening her eyes.

He laughed with her and they fell into a comfortable silence.

Her thoughts drifted off to when they met, four years prior. After Mary Margaret, she could easily consider him her best friend, in _and_ out of the school. They had gone out with other teachers loads of times - even though she would prefer some time _alone_ with him. Oh, well _-_ and she fell into this bubble of happiness and laughter and friendship and joy when she talked to him. It wasn't just his way with words; she could see they were very much alike. She could see he had a tough past and had made bad decisions. She could also see he had mostly moved on and tried to cherish what he had now.

She definitely had a crush for him. _Goddamnit_.

 

* * *

 

 

"Miss Swan!" Henry was running towards her in the halls, and she automatically smiled because the kid was one of her favourites. He was just adorable and wise, she linked with him on the first day of class.

"Oh, hi, Henry," she greeted.

He stopped in front of her, hugging a book while he caught his breath. "The yearbook... It's here... And everyone's talking... _Here_ ," he offered the one he was holding.

"Oh, no, Henry," she held out a hand. "You can keep that one, it's yours. I'll get mine later."

"No, but... Really... You should take it..."

She frowned, because _what the hell must be in this book._ She smiled softly as she took it and he carried on towards the exit of the building, leaving her alone with the book. She eyed it, curious, and decided to ignore the screaming voice in her head and just open the damn thing.

The first thing she noticed was the students' pictures. She smiled at Henry's picture, his face lit up by a toothed smile. She continued her search, still wondering why was Henry so eager for her to see it. She passed by school clubs, sports section and then-- _wait, what?!_

She nearly dropped the book when she saw a picture of her and _Professor Killian Jones_ sitting at the cafeteria, smiling at each other, under the title ' _Cutest Couple_ '. She thought those were only for students! _Who took this picture? There was no one around with a camera... Oh, yeah. iPhones_. Plus, they were not a couple. Right?

She analysed the picture and cursed herself for letting her heart-eyes show so much. But she would be lying if she said his were much different. How could she have not seen it before? Their smiles were loving, their eyes showed comfort and fondness and she didn't remember the last time her body seemed so relaxed in a picture. _What. The. Hell._

She only realised her mouth was hanging open when she heard soft giggles from a group of girls who passed by her. She snapped it close and glared at the girls' backs.

"Emma!"

She turned her head to find August Booth, Literature teacher. She had always liked him, like he was her brother, or something. Basically the same she felt towards David - even though he acted more like her _father_ than brother. "Hey, August."

He peeked at what se was reading and raised an eyebrow, a tiny grin on his lips. "Oh, you've seen it. I didn't know you and Jones were dating," he commented, leaning on the lockers next to her as he sipped from his mug of coffee.

"We're... Not," she replied.

He shrugged. "You should, though. It's not like you'd act any different."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I mean; in front of the kids. If you two dated, you'd have to act exactly as you two are acting now. It's like, concealing the sexual tension and trying to act, you know, couple-y. It's not exactly surprising people assumed you were together."

"We're not concealing sexual tension," she protested, snapping the yearbook closed and looking up at him.

He threw her the  _please-I-don't-take-your-shit_ look. "Please, Ruby once said she could smell the pheromones when you two looked at each other."

"I heard my name, what's up?" _Speak of the devil..._

"Miss Swan doesn't accept that she and Killian form the perfect couple."

Ruby, Arts teacher, leaned on the lockers in her other side. "But they don't." Emma was turning to scream ' _aha_ ' at August's face when the brunette went on. " _Mary Margaret and David_ form the perfect couple. They're just the prince and princess."

She groaned. "Will you two knock it off?"

"No!," Ruby insisted. _God_. "He's obviously head over toes for you and you're clearly into him. Just-- _Make out,_ already!"

August snorted and was going to say something, but his look fixed on something at the end of the hall and he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'll leave you two to it." And with that, he fled, pulling Ruby with him. Emma frowned and turned her head. _Oh no._

Mr Killian way-too-perfect Jones sauntered down the hall, hands in his pockets, towards _her_. _Crap_.

"Afternoon, Swan."

She smiled, lips right. "Hi."

He seemed unfazed by the whole yearbook thing and now, more than ever, she could see the way he looked at her. There was so much affection and care, it was almost too much.

 _Almost_.

"Did you see they put you in the yearbook?"

He pouted. "I gather that's quite a common thing, judging by the fact that _everyone_ in the school is in the yearbook."

She snorted, a smile she just wished she could hold because people made _assumptions_ tugging on her mouth. "I meant in a more... Spotlight way."

He furrowed his perfect eyebrows. _Damn_. "How so?"

She opened the book and searched for the right page, blushing when she found it and showed it to him. "This so."

He raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. He just studied the picture. He carefully took it from her hands and she cursed that too, because now, all her hands could do was fidget. She decided to just stick them in her back pockets.

After about two minutes - even if it felt like an hour -, he sighed. "Well, that only leaves me one choice." He adverted his look from the book and fixed it on her eyes. God, his eyes were so _blue_... "Will you go out with me?"

She didn't even try to hide the smile that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter's already written and I'll post it... When should I post it? Tomorrow? New Year's Eve? Probably New Year's Eve because I feel the new to be evil now. I think it's Dr House's spirit.


	40. Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! I couldn't wait to post the last chapter because it was eating me alive.

**Mistletoe**

 

Every day, Killian Jones read his fiancée a page of her favourite book, talked about his day at work and kissed her goodnight. Every day, he kissed her hand as he recalled of their first meeting. Every day, he remembered of how much he loved her.

No matter the time that passed, his love for Emma _never_ wavered. He could be told by friends and known ones that one day, he would just slip off of it; but he couldn't take it.

He would never let go.

Coma does things to people. It breaks hearts, it corrupts friendships, it separates families. It makes people feel trapped and free at the same time. It makes bodies hollow and lifeless. It makes life die.

Despite all of it, Killian Jones would never give up his love. He would come to the hospital every day and sit beside her bed. He would tell her stories, tales, gossips; he would kiss her forehead, her cheek, her hair and her lips. He would make her feel loved, even though he knew she wouldn't feel it.

It hurt more than it should, but he could cope with it. Her body wasn't dead; it still possessed the familiar warmth, the softness of her skin and the silkiness of her blonde hair. He could see her chest rising and falling; she was technically alive, but she wasn't at the same time.

The doctors had confirmed her brain dead, though the rest of her body worked perfectly. He cherished the fact that her hands, face, arms, legs, fingers were still the same. His friends kept telling him he had nothing to cherish: Emma wouldn't come back. He would just say he didn't care, because she was _there_.

She had been in a bus crash two years prior. Two people died, two were in a coma, six got out with bad injuries and the other eleven with light bruises. Killian never forgot the data of the accident. He never forgot the sirens and gatherings and screams and cries when he got to the hospital. He never forgot the feeling of desperation he felt when he saw her lying on that bed, lifeless, her right arm covered in red and a piece of glass the size of his hand coming out of her mid thigh. He felt dizzy and his knees wobbled because she was Emma and she was _dying_. The heart monitor beeped steadily, but the doctor and three nurses around her had tragic expressions on their faces.

She had to be taken to an operation room, where the nurses took him to a small side room with a glass window with a view to the operation table. He couldn't sit down, no matter how his legs shook because he felt unquiet and anxious. He watched as a doctor carefully pulled out the piece of glass off her leg with tweezers and placed it on a silver tray. He watched as they stitched the bruise up and treated her arm. He ran out of that confining space after they pushed her out and followed her bed to a private room, where he finally let his defending walls down and cried next to her bed. He didn't let go of her hand as the tears shed, neither when he slept. Doctors frequently came in the room to check up on her, and they said she would wake up in a day or two. He cried again before he laid his head on the mattress and closed his eyes, exhaustiveness finally coming to him.

She never woke up, though. As one of the doctors checked her vitals, the woman frowned when Emma didn't show signs of sleep, like movement under her eyelids. She got a pen - was it a pen? No, it was a tiny flashlight - and held Emma's lids open, wiggling the light in front of her eyes. He didn't see what made the doctor look so terrified, but he was sure his heart stopped beating when she declared Emma was in a coma.

The doctor had rushed out of the room, leaving Killian alone with Emma to call _other_ doctors. He cried again, and stopped sobbing once three other doctors came in - though the silent tears couldn't stop falling.

He watched as the doctors spoke in medical terms and furrowed when the woman explained him why Emma had slipped into coma.

He had cried again three days later, when they said they were sure Emma had an extremely small chance of waking up. He sat by her when they moved her into another room, quieter and smaller.

Her family was devastated; her parents couldn't believe it ams came to visit her every day for nearly a year. Her friends came to visit her for a couple of months, but only Ruby kept visiting until the eighth one. Only Killian visited her after that. He was there, alone with her, for nearly two years, six hours a day, every day. He _couldn't_  let go.

A few doctors and nurses knew him by the name. No one checked up on her because everyone knew she wouldn't wake up. He had seen a few nurses whispering to themselves about him, how they admired a husband who would go see his wife every day even though she wouldn't see him. He never corrected them. He wished they had gotten married before the bus crashed.

He didn't tell anyone about how he slipped a golden band with a tiny diamond in it on her ring finger a month after her parents stopped making frequent visits. He didn't tell anyone about how he made his vows and swore never to abandon her. He didn't abandon her.

He stood up to the confrontations, to the fights, to Ruby's moving, to August's vice and to Graham's heart attack. He didn't leave her side because he knew she wouldn't forgive him. But he also knew she would want him to let go. So he did what his heart told him and stayed at home for three nights. When the feeling of her palm against his, the sound of her steady breaths and the sight of her features were too much for him to handle, he saw himself walking into the hospital's lounge. He decide to shrug and continue.

 

* * *

 

It was his second Christmas without her and the pain was nearly too much.

His mind kept replaying the sight of her in a big sweater, the smell of her hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon and the feeling of peace and bliss. He kept remembering of past Christmases with her and his heart kept aching every time he did it. His eyes watered every time he thought about her smile, her laughter, the light in her eyes when she was happy. His throat closed every time he missed her.

He brought her a present, one that he knew she would have liked.

"Evening, love," he whispered to her, getting a seat on the armchair next to her bed and grabbing her hand. "It's going to be Christmas in a few hours, and I bought you something."

He pulled out a box tied with a ribbon from his backpack. "I don't know if you're gonna like it, because you're unconscious forever, but eh, screw it."

He untied the ribbon and opened the box, revealing a branch of mistletoe. "Oh my, it's a mistletoe. Who would have known, right?," he chuckled. His vision was suddenly blurred by tears. "You would've laughed at that."

A sob escaped his lips and he inwardly slapped himself. _Be strong for her._

Sniffling, he stood up and tied the mistletoe to the headboard filled with buttons and panels of her bed. He lingered his look on it before turning it to her sleeping face. The tears welled up in his eyes again and he couldn't keep it in.

"Gods, I miss you so much, Emma," he croaked out, lifting his hand to her cheek and brushing his knuckles against it. It felt _so soft_. "You have no idea of how much I miss you, love. I'd do anything to hear you laugh again, to see you smile." The corner of his wobbling lips tugged up. "It would give me life. I feel empty, now, Swan. Emptier than ever. I feel alone. I want to feel your arms around me but I _can't_. Because you can't wake up." Another sobs followed before he could pull himself together to say something else. "I miss your voice, your laugh, your smell, your eyes. I miss you, more than I've ever had. August, Ruby and Graham are gone. Robin's always with Regina and Vic's depressed because he couldn't move with Ruby. I don't hear from your parents for months... Elsa went back to Europe, by the way. I talked to her last week, but you don't bloody care. I have no one. You being partially alive is what keeps me here. Don't you _ever_ go." He saw as one of his tears fell on her cheek and he wiped it off with his thumb. He suddenly chuckled humourlessly. "At least I quit drinking. I knew you wouldn't forgive me."

His lower lip trembled as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, another sob escaping him before he could contain it. "Merry Christmas, Emma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE ARE. The end. The end of the first of some. Hm.
> 
> Seriously, though, I have never voted writing as much as I do when I'm writing a chapter for Timeless. The thought that real actual people would read and possibly like it just kept me moving forward. Thank you, seriously. Mainly to those who commented; I really loved reading the comments. *sobs because this chapter and because iTS OVER FOR REALS NOW GUYS*


	41. Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... hi.
> 
> Yeah, I'm back, because I've felt bad about abandoning this little baby ever since I did and, in celebration of SIX THOUSAND HITS GUYS THANK YOU BY THE WAY I WAS AT SCHOOL WHEN IT HAPPENED, I am officially bACK. 
> 
> If you've been catching up on my you'll know I did create a new collection and managed to write slow-making 18 chapters of it. Since y'all like my writing, I just decided to put the chapters here too and delete As You Wish in a while, like, two months. 
> 
> I am literally so excited about coming back im nearly cRYING. 
> 
> Since I can't write a CS wedding no matter how much I try, here. By the way, tHIS IS VERY LONG HAVE A NICE READING.

**Wedding**

 

 _Oh no. No. No, no, no, no. Nope_.

"Ems?," she heard Ruby's distant voice. "Are you okay?"

She had stopped breathing, eyes wide, staring at the invite in her hands in horror.

"Kill me."

Killian muted the TV. "What?"

"Do it quickly before the 23rd."

"What are you talking about?," Mary Margaret asked, getting up from the couch and striding towards her friend. "What's wrong?"

She handed the pixie-haired the invite and watched her friend's face turn from confused to surprised.

"Oh, no..."

"Okay, now I'm nervous," Ruby spoke, jumping from her seat - nearly tripping over Killian's legs in the process - and taking it from Mary Margaret. Emma watched as her eyes flew across the page, widening around the middle where their names laid. "Well, shit. ' _Neal Cassidy and Tamara Scott happily count with your presence in the celebration of their union._ ' Wow, so much bullshit in one single sentence..."

"What am I going to do?," Emma cries, slumping on the couch next to Killian.

"Why are you so desperate?," he asks, looking down at her with worried eyes. "If you don't want to go, then just don't."

"Are you kidding me?!," Ruby chimes in. "She _has_ to go and she knows it. It's her ex we're talking about here. The one that she needs to show she's over him. The problem is that she can't appear there unaccompanied..."

"What? That's rubbish."

Emma snorted. "It's really not. He'll see how my love life sucks and I don't want to give him that taste of satisfaction."

"It does have a plus one, after all," Ruby mused. "Maybe he just put it there because he wanted to humiliate her in some way. We need to kick his ass."

Killian looked at Mary Margaret, the mother of the group. She sadly nodded her head. Emma felt his shoulders fall as they brushed against her own.

"What are we gonna do?," Mary Margaret quietly asked.

"Isn't it obvious?," the red-lipped smirked. "We have to find Emma a date for the wedding."

"But it's in a week," Killian protested.

"And, in a week, she shall have a date. All agree?"

She apparently took their silence as a 'yes', since she got up from the armchair she had sat and kneed Killian to make space for her ("Bloody hell, you can speak from there...").

"And who do you suggest?," Emma mumbled, already grumpy thinking of which stranger Ruby would force her to spend six hours with.

She made a thoughtful face, as if she was actually mentally looking for someone, but Emma could see in her eyes that she had a person set.

In a cue, Ruby gasped. "Killian!"

" _What_?," the unison question came from both her sides.

"Killian could be your date!"

"Why him?" She didn't have anything against him - they had been friends for a long time - but acting as a _couple_?

"Yes, why me?"

"Oh, come on. Killian, I thought you'd be flattered to have a hottie like Emma to fake as your girlfriend for a night--"

"I'm right here, Ruby..."

She kept going, ignoring her friend. "Same goes to you, Emma. Are you saying Killian's not hot enough to be your boyfriend?"

"I'm not saying tha--"

"Then it's decided!," Ruby exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Honestly, Emma didn't have anything to do unless accept it. Ruby was hard to defeat in an argument. She could see by Killian's eyes that he was thinking the same thing.

"Mary Margaret, you're way too quiet," the blonde commented.

Her friend seemed to snap out of a reverie when her name is spoken, blinking and focusing on Emma's face, the soft dreamy smile previously on her lips falling. "What?"

"What are you thinking about?"

She hesitated. "It's just..." She let a giggle out. "I always thought you two looked good together."

 _Unexpected?_ Yes. But now that Emma thought about it... Also _true_. Not that she would ever say it out loud.

 

* * *

 

"What are you going to wear?"

"Why do you want to know; that's Ruby's task," Emma protested.

Killian laughed. "She actually asked me, and I'm asking you."

"Oh..." Sounds like something she'd do. "The red dress I wore at David and Mary Margaret's wedding's out of the question."

"Why's that?"

"Because pictures exist. People would notice if I was wearing the same dress."

He eyed her warily. "Women are weird."

"I know," she admitted quickly. "But anyway, I think I'm going with a black dress you don't know yet."

"What the hell am I supposed to tell Ruby if I don't know what dress it is?!," he asked, a bit of despair in his voice.

She snorted. "Just tell her I'll wear the black one she gave me."

He frowned. "Okay..."

"And what are you going to wear?," she faked excitement, a forced smile on her face.

He chuckled. "Not hard to assume, Swan."

"I know."

 

* * *

 

"Swan? You here?"

_What the actual hell?_

He had a spare key. Of course he would come in without knocking.

"W-- Jones!," she yelled from her room, eyeing her struggling form as she tries to zip up the dress. "Yeah, I'm here. Knock before coming in!"

"But why? I've known you long enough to know you'll forget this in less than ten minutes...," she heard him answer, and rolled her eyes.

"Smug bastard...," she mumbled. Finally, she admitted defeat with a sigh. "Killian?"

The idiot stuck his head in the room. "Yes, love?"

She pursed her lips. "Can you zip this stupid thing up?," she asked, pointing at the back of her dress.

When he didn't make a move - or a sound -, she looked up at him to see him gaping at her. She held back a smirk and raised an eyebrow when his eyes moved to her face.

He snapped out of whatever the hell he was in and shook his head quickly, scratching the spot behind his ear. "Oh, er-- _yes_ , alright."

Was he flustered? _Killian Jones does not get flustered._

He walked towards her as she turned her back and _God, this looks like a romcom movie scene, where the guy realises he has a huge crush for the girl and exchange those long-ass gazes and whoa, okay._ Why was she thinking about that? Probably his smell. Or his clothes. Or his ever disheveled hair. Or _him_. Who knows.

She felt his hand carefully dragging the zipper up, tightening the dress a bit, and he placed his hands on her bare shoulders. _Okay, Harry Potter scene right there._ _Don't kiss him. He's Killian, the Killian, you won't kiss him, no matter how hard you want to. But you don't want to._

She couldn't even lie to herself anymore.

She could feel him behind her, not entirely touching her, but the warmth emanating from his body was enough to declare his very close presence.

 _Snap out of the reverie. Snap out of the reverie_ now _._

So she did.

Blinking various times to clear her mind, she cleared her throat and stepped forward, missing the warmth of his hands immediately after he removed them. She turned around and saw him scratching behind his ear again, which would normally make her laugh, but it didn't now because she still felt the jolt of electricity that his touch elicited in her spine. _God, recompose yourself._

"So, is this good?," she asked him, looking down at her dress. She was wearing the long, silky black dress Ruby had given her for her birthday the previous year. It was a one shoulder with a fitted waist, that suddenly loosened and fell to the ground in a cascade of black silk. She loved that dress, but never had a chance to use it. _Yay for today, right?_

She let her hair fall loose down her back - now put aside by Mr Warm Hands Asshole there - because it wouldn't cooperate and her arms were exhausted when she finally gave up, combing it - _hopefully_ \- prettily and praying it wouldn't become a total mess at the party later that night.

"You look stunning, Swan," he said, studying her head to toes. Of course she had to blush under his way too intense-slash-penetrating gaze.

 _Snap out. Snap out._ "And you look--"

"I know," he interrupted with a smirk. _Idiot_. She couldn't help but smile back.

His tuxedo was mostly normal, the grey shirt contrasting with the black everything else. He didn't shave or comb his hair, which made her smile grew a tiny bit. Maybe his hair is just minimally less missed because he was trying to look classy. _Seems like something he would do_.

He suddenly raised his hand towards her. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, I'll just grab my shoes. Oh, by the way, are we driving there?"

"We are, so don't drink too much if I do."

She laughed. "Do you really trust me on that?"

"Not really. I'll try to keep you _and_ myself away from the drinks."

He followed her to the living room, where she picked up her heels and slid her feet in each one. "But you know they'll be calling for you."

"No need to point out, Swan, I'm trying to keep control of my drinking at a bloody wedding."

She chuckled again and opened the front door, walking out with him and locking it after he passed her.

It was only when they were in the elevator that it hit her she was going to _Neal's_ wedding with another woman. She wasn't jealous or angry, just oddly self conscious and nervous.

Killian bumped her shoulder with his. "You okay?"

She nodded, sighing. "Yeah, don't worry."

He eyed her a little longer when the door opened and they walked out the building.

He opened the passenger door for her, something he had done many times before, but, this time, it made her stomach flutter and her heart race. She wanted to scream ' _WHY?!_ ' towards the sky because she was _so_ confused.

The drive to the church was quiet, only a few words exchanged and the music coming out of the radio. He opened the door for her again and she nearly yelped when she felt his arm sneaking around her waist. A look towards the door of the building answered all her question: it was filled with people she didn't know. She saw two vaguely familiar faces in the crowd, but nothing else.

They squeezed between people, Killian's hand firmly grasping hers as if he didn't want to lose her in the middle of the confusion of faces and bodies, and finally entered the church.

It was very pretty there, and a few people were already sitting in the wooden benches. Emma caught a glimpse of Neal's smiling face near the altar as he talked to a group of men in tuxes. They walked slowly to the groom's side, hiding in the one of the rows. Her hand was still safely tucked in his, their fingers entwined as they sat closer than they had ever say before.

She tried her best to look relaxed - Killian's thumb drawing circles on her palm in a soothing way were helping more than she would like to admit - and leaned against her 'boyfriend'.

"Swan?," he called in a low tone. She hummed in response. "What do you think they'll be serving at the party?"

She couldn't hold back the chuckle - she shouldn't, anyway - and lightly rested her jaw on his shoulder. "Drinks. That ridiculously tiny portion of food rich people have everywhere."

"Do you think they'd serve hotdogs?" He sounded genuinely interested and hopeful, which made her laugh again.

"Knowing Neal, possibly. But I bet that bride of his is shallow and bitchy, so probably no."

His shoulders sagged in fake disappointment and she was about to make a witty remark when the voice interrupted them.

"Emma!"

 _Oh, no. It's too soon_. "Hi, Neal."

"Who's this?" He sounded softly offended, and she held back a victorious grin.

"Oh, this is Killian. Killian, this is Neal."

"Evening, mate." Killian got up, holding out a hand with a small smile - _cough_ , smirk - towards Neal.

Her ex-boyfriend was scowling, eyeing the held out hand, before he shook it roughly. More like tried to break Killian's fingers, but the blue eyed kept the charismatic smile on. _Nice one, Jones._

"Yeah..."

"So, excited to be committed to someone for the rest of your life?," Emma asks, a cold spice in her speak. _No biggie._

"Yes, I love Tamara and I'm willing to spend the rest of my days with her."

Emma blushed - from anger this time, because he was basically _throwing_ it at her face with a freaking nonchalant tone. Why did he even invite her if he would only make her feel bad?!

"That's nice." _My knight in shining armour._ Killian kept a soft smile on. "It's a very important commitment. If you marry someone, you _should_ be willing to spent the rest of your days with them."

 _Ooh, burn._ He was putting pressure on Neal's shoulders, and she was loving how the edges of the dark eyed's mouth kept tugging down each spoken word.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, I have to go." And with that, he fled.

She wanted to hug Killian. Wait, she could.

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him to her with a large grin on her lips. She could hear his laugh next to her ear as he wrapped his own arms around her.

Why was she feeling warm and jolted? Why was his touch making we stomach do turns and twists? They'd hugged before... She did _not_ like this night so far.

 

* * *

 

The wedding was boring and slow; and, as she previewed, Tamara had the most arrogant looking face Emma had ever seen.

They were ushered to a rented place two blocks away when it ended to the party. It had large windows and white coloured walls, the grey coloured tiled floor giving the place a wedding looking appearence. There were white tables with flower arrangements and oil lamps on them set around a bit empty circle - the dance floor, probably - and a bar in a corner.

There were a few people there when they got there; but, as they stood next to the door, the room started to pack with grown ups and old people and children and _how do two people have this many invitees, Jesus..._

"Hey, it's Tink," Killian nudged her side, his head motioning to one of the tables, where their blonde friend sat with three other people.

They walked over, across the still empty dance floor, approaching their table. "Hi, Tink," Emma greeted, and she looked up, eyes lightening at the moment he saw who it was.

"Emma! Killian! It's been a while, people." She smiled at the others at the table - the only one replying with one of his own being the kid. "Oh, introductions. Um, Killian and Emma, this is Regina, a friend I met at college, her son Henry and her fiancée Robin. Robin's coincidentally a friend of Neal's."

"Hi!," the kid - Henry - chimed in excitedly.

"Please, sit with us," Robin invited gesturing to the three empty chairs.

They sat, Emma next to Killian who was next to Tink. She and Henry had a chair between them, but the kid kept sending both Emma and Killian curious and cheerful glances.

"So, I didn't know you guys were dating," Tink commented, and just then was when Emma realised she was still holding Killian's hand. _God_ , when had it become such a natural and comfortable weight on hers? She nearly pulled back, being reminded this was an _act_ by his light squeeze.

"Er, yeah," was his genius and elaborated reply and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Tink smirked. "I always knew it would happen."

"You two do form a nice couple," Robin complimented.

"Likewise," Killian nodded towards Regina. They did look good together, Regina and Robin.

"How did it happen?," Tink excitedly asked. _I thought we had moved on to the other couple on the table..._

 _Okay, make up a story quick._ "It just sort of did, you know?" _Great. Fantastic_. "It was in a park, wasn't it?," she glanced at him, eyes pleasing he'd get the clue.

"Yeah, Ruby abandoned us alone." _Thank god._ "And then Emma saw she had a huge crush on me and finally made a move."

"You basically just implied that you had a crush on me first."

He frowned at her. "No, I didn't."

She chuckled. "Yes, you did. ' _Finally_ ' expresses eagerness. You better than anyone should know this, Mr _You-Finally-Bought-The-Bloody-Biscuits._ "

They remembered they weren't alone when Tink let out a laugh - along with Henry. "God, you're even worse than before. Keep on like this."

Ten minutes later, they had fallen into easy conversation: Killian telling the adults some tale about his time in his boat and Henry entertaining her with his impressive knowledge of fairy tales and the sorts. He told her about his theory that every one in town could be a storybook character, and, when she asked who she was, he had frowned and said he didn't know yet. Apparently, Regina was the Evil Queen from Snow White and Robin was Robin Hood. He said Killian was Captain Hook and she couldn't help but imagine him with a hook for a hand. There was something weirdly sexy about that. He casually mentioned Neal was some boy called Baelfire and she decided not to ask.

"Swan," Killian whispered, and she leaned back. She could feel his lips brush her ear as he whispered over the music. "We haven't kissed yet." She smacked his arm. He chuckled. "No, I'm very serious." She threw him the _yeah-I-can-see-that_ eye roll. "Would you kill me if I tried?"

"That depends on the situation," she whispered back. They must have looked like little kids hiding secrets from the other kids in kindergarten to the others. "There's a 10 year old in the table right now, so it would be inappropriate."

"Are you saying that if he leaves you won't strangle me?"

"Pretty much." She was oddly comfortable with his hand on her back and his warm presence next to her. Not to mention that she was weirdly _chill_ with everything that was happening. She should be freaking out; but she wasn't _near_ that.

He nodded and got back to his conversation. Emma told Henry about her love for Snow White when she was a kid and he joked she should be her daughter. It would've been cool, though.

At some point, Tink had jumped to the table next to them, talking to some guys called Peter, Michael and John and a girl called Wendy - she must have heard it wrong -, Robin had persuaded Regina to dance, leaving Henry alone with them. She could see it was annoying Killian.

"Henry, do you know Grace?," Killian's voice suddenly caught her attention.

"Grace Hatter? She studies with me."

"She's also right over there," he said, pointing at a little girl standing in the corner of the dance floor, face dreamily eyeing the couples dancing as she swooned with the music playing.

Henry looked over and Emma saw his eyes go slightly wider. _Someone's got a crush..._

"Why don't you ask to dance with her?," he asks the kid. Henry gulped as he nervously nodded, slowly jumping out of his chair and rounding the couples. She saw him subtly and anxiously approach Grace and point at the dance floor. The little girl's face lit up in an instant as she pulled him to the middle of the crowd. Emma was weirdly proud of him.

"No problem now, right?," Killian whispered in her ear.

She snorted. "Why are you so eager?"

"I've been for a while, actually..." _Ha, me too. Wait. No, what?_

She stilled, turning her head to him slowly. "What? For real?"

He nodded, raising his eyebrows. "For real."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "How long?"

"Longer than I'd like." And just like that, he leaned forward and softly pressed his lips against hers and _holy shit._ She was _kissing_ Killian and it was like all the tension in her body had just fled away by the time he raised his hand to cup her jaw. It was better than she thought - yes, of _course_ she had thought - it would be and it wasn't hungry or violent in any way; it was soft and light and passionate at the same time. It was like he was really pouring a long time of yes, want, but also great affection and care, and she nearly broke it off to just look into his eyes - and then probably pounce in again - because _she could feel it too._ She could feel the care and the fondness coming out of _her_ , not only him. It was like when you were in the darkness for a long time and suddenly saw the outside and the sunlight and it sort of blinds you, but then you see the beauty and comfort in it and _God, he smells good._

Oxygen be damned, they need to pull away to breathe and all they do in that mean time is stare into each other's eyes in a way neither had done before.

Emma closed her eyes. "What are we doing?," she whispers, more to herself than to him.

"Acting. Hopefully more," he added, bumping her nose with his. She couldn't help but feel good after what happened. It wasn't just good, but maybe it was a door. A door to some kind of unexplored part of her life she had always been scared of venturing in. The fear of being abandoned had taken over her every time she tried something. But she could feel he also wanted this. And if it were some kind of urgent _natural_ need, they wouldn't have been friends for so long.

_What if he's not like Neal?_

_What if he doesn't leave you?_

_What if this does something good to you?_

_Are you willing to take a chance?_

"Take a leap of faith, Swan," he murmured, and she could still taste the faint rum and mint.

_Because I am._

_Oh, what the hell_. She just surged forward again because he never pushed her. He was always there for her. He was there when no one could possibly be. He helped her get over stupid things. He brought her up when she went down. He was the one she could completely trust without hesitation. He was Killian. And Killian would definitely never hurt her. He would have done it already.

_Right?_

 

* * *

 

 _Right_ , she thought a week later as they watched Netflix sprawled on the couch, the cold making her curl into him even more. _Without a shadow of a doubt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS SO LONG IDK WHAT HAPPENED


	42. Curious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what happened here. It's being really had to take the words out, for some reason - i was fINE FIVE WEEKS AGO - and I've been listening to 1989 the whole day please help me

**Curious**

 

Every morning, she dropped him off at the school's parking lot. Today wasn't any different.

"What do you even teach these kids?," Emma asks him as she turns off the engine.

He huffs a laugh. "Historical facts."

"Yes, that is obvious. But what are you teaching _now_?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Well, this year, it's the French Revolution and a bunch of other revolutions that happened before the 20th century."

She narrowed her eyes, as if searching her memory for something. "I thought they learned that in 7th grade..."

"Nah, I've been with these kids since the 5th," he replied. "It's been a year and they didn't exactly have... The mental age to understand such events."

She hummed, a tiny smile on her pretty lips. "They must _adore_ you."

"Why's that, love?"

"Because they've been stuck with you for a _year_ and you haven't told me anything about complaints. The must _really_ adore you," she teased as she opened the driver's door.

He laughed, opening the passenger's and stepping out of the car. She was already rounding the front of the yellow bug to stand if front of him. The first thing he did when she was within reach was hook his fingers in her belt loops and drag her closer, a smirk on his face. He really loved her.

"When do you leave?," he asked, suddenly serious.

She hesitated, putting her arms loosely around his waist as she raised an eyebrow. "In... Two minutes?"

He smiled at her avoidance, but it fell when he remembered - again, right after three minutes ago. "You know too well what I mean, Swan."

She sighed, gazing right into his eyes, as he studied hers: the specs of hazel in the middle of the various tones of olive... "Tomorrow at 4."

He tilted his head. "Do you have to go?"

She smiled softly. "Yeah," she whispered, sounding as if she didn't want to go herself. But he knew she did. "I need to help Mary Margaret sort everything out before the wedding. Don't worry, you'll be arriving there before you notice it."

"I honestly doubt it," he mumbled grumpily.

She chuckled. "Stop being such a baby, you know it will. Plus, you're still seeing me _tonight_ ," she added, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Oi, that is a _very_ evil thing to say right before I enter a _school_ , Swan! Plus, it's my job to be the innuendo person, you know it."

She shrugged. "Never hurts."

Killian grinned and saw the same fond smile being mirrored in her face. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers sweetly, and felt her sigh. He pulled back, not wanting to set her free yet, and lingered his look on her face. He could see the glint in her eyes, and it made warmth spread across his chest.

He could hear the voices at the door of the school increasing, the more and more students that lingered there to catch up on whatever happened or just chat meaning it was time for him to go do his job. He inwardly groaned, not wanting to leave her today.

She sighed again, bringing her hands to his chest and giving a light push. "Now go, make these kids geniuses."

He pecked her cheek lovingly and hugged her close to him. "Have a nice day, sweetheart."

Every time he called her that, he could see the softness in her look and the light blush on her cheeks.

He smiled as he turned around, backpack slung over one shoulder. He walked among the students and entered the building, throwing 'good morning's and 'hello's to whoever greeted them - _good form._

When he reached his classroom, he unlocked the door and got in, setting his bag on the table and taking out its contents. He had about ten minutes of quiet before the students started to come in.

He thought about his relationship with Emma. How it had the moments when they looked like a brand new couple and others when they looked like they've been together for decades. She's once told him he was her best friend, and he couldn't deny she was his. She was the person who best understood and knew him. She was the person he loved the most in the whole world.

They had been together for nearly two years now. She had moved into his apartment more than seven months before. They were planning on getting a dog - she vetoed _any_ possibilities of getting a cat. He was never really fond of them either.

The only words that could describe their current situation was "swimmingly blissful". They argued, obviously, but never to the point where one had to sleep on the couch or just spend the night out, as his friends implied it had happened in their relationships.

David, her brother, and his fiancée Mary Margaret would be getting married in a week, and Killian didn't get the days off he asked for the week because three teachers already had. Plus, Archie, the principal, convinced him of staying when he implied the kids did adore him. So he would have to spend a week away from Emma and only on Friday meet her in Boston. Torture, in other words.

His thoughts were interrupted there, when the door opened to a mass of students in the hall entering the classroom. Two or three minutes passed before they were all sat and set and he got up, smiling at them.

"Morning, class. Where did we stop last lesson?"

 

* * *

 

The last class of his day went quieter and quicker than normal, which, honestly, scared him. The kids were silent most of the way through it and he managed to finish the lesson seven minutes earlier.

" _Mr Jones_?," he heard a voice in the middle of the chatter that erupted from the nearing end of the class say.

Most of the voices quieted, a few murmurs and snickers sounding.

He looked up, adverting his gaze from his phone where he was messaging Emma, to the girl - Grace - who spoke up. "Yes?"

The girl hesitated, looking at her friend sitting beside her nervously. The friend - Jessica -, clearly more carefree and blunt, tsked impatiently at the girl's hesitance and blurted out with a raised eyebrow. "We saw you kissing a woman today."

He counted six giggles, one ' _ew_ ' and at least three heads ducking. _Kids are weird..._

He decided to be as blunt. "Yes, and?"

"Why?," she asked. He resisted the urge to laugh - different than half of the class. She was 12, she should know _why_.

"Because it's his girlfriend, stupid," a boy said, and the whole class exploded in laughter. _Kids are_ very _weird..._

She didn't coward though. Instead of curling up more in the chair, she perched up, looking at Killian as if searching for confirmation.

"Thank you, James," he said to the boy - who smiled, proud of himself.

"What's her name?," Grace asked shyly.

He nearly chuckled when he saw most of the class raise their looks to his face, interested. He was never one to tell the kids about his personal life - except for the trips he made to historical places throughout his life -, but they were 12, what would be the harm?

"Her name's Emma," he said, frowning in fake confusion of their curiosity.

"Where did you meet?," a boy ask.

 _Should he?_ "Why should I tell you, people?"

"Because you love us?," Alice joked, batting her eyelashes.

He chuckled. "I'll ask her. If she allows it, I'll tell."

They actually _cheered_.

_My students are wondering how we met._

_**What? Why?** _

_Because they casually mentioned I was kissing some woman earlier today_

**_Lie to them_ **

_Oh, I could do that, love, they have natural puppy dog eyes_

_**Okay, then tell them** _

_Are you sure?_

_**It's not like it's something we don't tell people. It's a rule to propel to ask couples how they met, right?** _

_Thank you, love_

"Alright, she allowed it." The murmur of conversation increased for a second and suddenly silenced.

He took a deep breath. "Her best friend, who is now marrying her brother next week, told me Emma was single and her fiancée, an old friend of mine, pushed me to her."

"And that was how long ago?," Henry asked.

"About two years."

"You've been together for two years?," Harriet exclaimed. "You haven't proposed to her already?"

 _Okay, where is this going?_ "I want to give her time, Harriet."

"Yeah, but do you love her?"

"Yes--"

"Does she love you?"

" _Yes_ , b--"

"Then it's decided!," Henry chimes in excitedly. "You'll propose to her, right?"

Killian straightened on his chair, impressed at how those kids were interested in his life with Emma. "Someday, hopefully."

The bell rang and theY started to gather their things. The murmurs and chatter filled his ears, and he heard the word 'Emma' at least four times. _Good heavens, these kids needed to mind their business._

Sighing, he tucked his belongings inside his backpack and hurried home. He just wanted to see her.

 

* * *

 

Saturday afternoon, he took her to the nearest airport. Their goodbye kiss wasn't long or short, slow or fast. It was perfect. It was sweet and passionate and made an old lady nearby smile softly.

She had cupped his face with both hands and smiled fondly.

"See you on Friday."

He mirrored her loving expression and nodded. She was his everything.

The last call to her flight sounded and she leaped onto him for a last peck on his lips, whispering a quick " _Goodbye!_ " and hurrying to the gate. He watched her go, grinning like a fool in love - which is exactly what he was - when she looked over her shoulder when she passed through the door.

Sighing, he looked at the floor, lightly kicking the air, and turned around - sending a tight-lipped to the old lady who was still smiling at him -, walking through the endless halls and corridors and gates to finally reach his car outside.

When he got in, he spent about five minutes staring at the nothing, just thinking of her. Suddenly he made a decision. Switching the car on, he drove back to Storybrooke and didn't stop at home before riding to a certain shop in a certain corner of a certain street of the town.

He had a confident smile when he entered it.

 

* * *

 

She went to pick him up at the airport, greeting him with a passionate kiss that screamed ' _I missed you so much_ '. He responded to it as fiercely.

They walked hand in hand out of the airport, grabbing a cab at the entrance and going to the hotel Emma was crashing in.

"What did you do the week I was away?," she asked.

He shrugged. "I separated a fight between two 11 year-olds during lunch on Wednesday. And I think that was the high of my week."

She laughed. "Did you miss me _that_ much?" He knew she was only teasing, but he couldn't help but become serious.

"I really did."

She looked up from Killian's suitcase and into his eyes. He saw the love there.

She rounded the bed and didn't stop before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him towards her, squeezing him in a warm hug. He squeezed her with his own arms, burying his nose in her golden locks and breathing in her recognisable scent.

"I love you," she whispered next to his ear.

"I love you too, darling."

 

* * *

 

Three weeks later, he took her to her building's roof, sitting down at the little table, linked fingers, and watched the sun set. Just when the sun touched the horizon, he kissed her knuckles.

She snickered. "What was that for?"

"To express a tiny bit of the love I feel for you," he replied, caressing her fingers with his thumb.

They gazed into each other's eyes, the sunset long forgotten, and he gathered up his strengths.

"Emma, what do you think will happen to us?," he asked softly.

"Get eaten by zombies, probably."

"I meant us, love, not human kind."

"Oh," she mused, raising her eyebrows then shrugging. "I haven't really thought about that. I don't want to spoil what we have."

"How would it spoil it?"

She sighed. "Knowing what you want is something. Guessing what the other does is another completely different. But it's also the base of any relationship. Which terrifies me."

He tilted his head, heart racing because it's time. "What if I hope it'll turn out perfect?"

"Then great!" He could see it in her eyes that she suspected what was coming. And she wasn't ducking away, which made him more confident.

"Emma, what do you think of trying to commit spending the rest of your life with you?"

She stilled, eyes fixed on his, and he held his breath. The hand in his tightened a tad bit before relaxing.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking?"

Killian shrugged. "Are you accepting it?"

"What do you think?," she quipped, before jumping up and pushing him with her, crashing their chests in a rib-breaking hug that made his heart swell and soar. Burying her nose in his neck, she laughed, a beautiful sound he lived for. He leaned back just enough to have a good look in her features and crush his lips on hers, in a kiss he was sure was sealing their fate in the greatest way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The talk with the students was actually inspired in something that happened to my brother. Like, it's was exactly that, but with his English teacher. Like, a month later, he told the class he was engaged. I love that I could put in the final credits 'based in real facts' of this were a movie. Random thoughts because it's later than usual and I need to sleep.


	43. Stables

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what happened here, I just know I spent three days trying to write the first part and then the rest just flew out of me in like half an hour.

**Stables**

 

" _Emma?_ ," she heard Belle's voice echo in the hall.

"Yeah?," she answered, eyes glued on the TV.

The brunette poked her head inside the room. "Your mother's asking if you're ready for your afternoon ride."

The blonde groaned, throwing her head back. "Do I have to?"

"She _is_ the queen."

Emma chuckled lightly. "I'll be at the door in ten minutes."

The brunette nodded and left.

Emma didn't really like riding. It was such an old fashioned thing. She was so used to cars and even _walking_ looked better than riding for her. Plus, the riding had no reason. She rode for an hour or two around the castle and came back to what she was done my before. It was useless. Luckily, she rode alone, so she could just stop somewhere no one would see her and read a book.

She got up from her seat on the little sofa she spent most of her days on and went into her closet, changing her sweatpants for jeans and her loose hoodie for a long sleeved grey shirt. She put on her riding boots and grabbed a book from her shelf - Jules Verne because why not, right? - and hurrying down the endless stairs through the palace.

When she reached the first floor, she spotted her mother admiring the view from the railing next to the stairs that led to the garden. She was always so _gracious_ and _royal_. Emma didn't know how she did it. She mostly looked like an ordinary 24 year-old.

Modern royalty is weird. The tiny country of Misthaven was located near the Netherlands, North Coast of Europe. Completely isolated from the news and the attention of the world. It was cool, though. A lot more privacy, surely.

"Mom?"

Her mother's form turned around, a smile gracing her lips. "Emma," she sighed. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"But you asked me to come..."

She frowned, tsking and huffing. "I know, I just always wanted to say that out loud."

Emma laughed. She loved _this_ side of her mother. The more carefree, the one that allowed the great mother and daughter relationship they had. This was the side of her Emma liked to call 'best friend'.

"So, you ready for your ride?," the older woman asked.

Emma sighed. "Sure. What's the point of these rides anyway?"

She shrugged. "Mostly training for when you inspect the guard or simply my will to make you like horses. Plus, it's a hell of a skill."

The blonde chuckled, even though she sensed there was something more into it. "Okay, you convinced me." And with that, she paced down the steps, directing to the stables.

"Hey, Killian."

The dark haired wonder turned around to face her. _Crap_. She wouldn't admit it even to herself, but he was _quite_ a vision. Disheveled black hair, a light stubble she hated for making her stomach flutter and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Her father's was lighter and softer. His were deep and hypnotising and _God, focus._

"Afternoon, lass," he replied, walking towards her horse's stall. She liked that she knew him long and well enough to know that he already felt secure enough to not call her 'highness'. Well, at least when they were alone. And she appreciated it.

He opened the door, holding the animal's reins and ushering it to her. "What were you doing?," she asked, spying over his shoulder to the pile of horse faeces behind him and taking the reins he was offering.

He grimaced. "Something unpleasant I don't really like to do."

"How do you _not_ smell like horse poo?," she said after sniffing the air near him.

"Was that a compliment?," he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. _Smug bastard._

"An observation."

"I just take care that no horse poo falls on me."

She laughed. "That wouldn't be pleasant."

He shook his head, gazing at her with those ridiculously perfect eyes. His grin was big and toothy; boy-ish, even. She liked that one.

He cleared his throat. "So, have you discovered what the purpose of these rides is?"

She nodded. "Something about being ready when I inspect the guard. In a few years," she added.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking, but didn't say anything.

All they did for about a minute was that, enjoying the comfortable silence - something not usual to Emma - and just... _Looking_ at each other. Emma was personally _studying_ his face, absorbing its details. It was like she could drown in the blue of his eyes, and she couldn't deny that his hair looked _really_ soft; she'd give a lot to just thread her fingers through it and _ugh, stop it._

Killian broke the silence for her. "So, any plans for the rest of the week?," he asked, rather shyly, tucking his hands in his pant pockets, removing them quickly when he remembered the gloves were covered in horse poop.

She snickered at his slight clumsiness. "My mother--"

"The queen."

"--said she's throwing a dinner with a few important people from around here."

"Are you nervous?," he said, leaning against the frame of the stall's entrance.

She shrugged. "I don't _want_ to go, that's for sure; and I'd do anything to not go."

He chuckled, turning his eyes upwards. "You are so stubborn." She rolled her eyes, not being able to hold back the tiny smile that crept to her lips. "You don't accept that you have to do this because this country will one day depend on you."

"Thanks for the support, Jones."

" _I'm just saying_ ," he interrupted her, raising a hand to stop her from turning around. "It's just a few years until _you_ have to ask someone to go take afternoon rides. For no apparent reason too, probably."

She didn't answer, instead choosing to muse over his thoughts. It was true: one day, she would be queen, habe children and pick on them with the royal tasks. She just didn't know how to do it.

An image of a young girl with jet-black hair, cerulean eyes and a dip on her chin flashed on her mind and she inwardly waved it away. She should _not_ be thinking that, regardless of the fact that _yes_ , she had a _massive_ crush on him. Not that she would ever say anything.

He sighed after a few moments, the edges of his mouth twisting in the failing attempt of hiding a smirk. "Should I give you a good luck hug to the dinner?," he suggested, raising an eyebrow as he opened his arms.

 _No_. "No."

He stepped a tiny step forward. "Come on, Swan, just a quick embrace--"

"No, _step back_."

Another step. "I know you like hugs--"

"No, don't you dare."

And another. "Deep inside--"

" _No_."

And, suddenly, his face was a few inches from hers. No, don't look at his lips-- _oh, crap_. "Just a quick hug, Swan," he whispered, making it look like the situation was far more serious than it actually was.

"You're going to ruin my shirt."

"You're royalty, you have other shirts."

"You're very aware that you will ruin my shirt and you still want to do it," she narrowed her eyes, crossing her eyes, careful not to touch him - which was _hard_  - or she would just go insane. She was _flirting_ , she couldn't do that. It was _his_ task.

His smirk widened. "Of course."

"You're evil."

"I prefer dashing rapscallion," he murmured. She raised her eyebrows. "Scoundrel?"

"Don't you dare," she warned again. She knew it wouldn't work, and she knew she could just step back, but a big part of her just _didn't want_ to.

"Oh, I will." And with that, he hugged her.

It was warm and comfortable and she _shouldn't_ enjoy it. She could smell salt and cologne and something more she would definitely label as ' _Killian_ ' and horse poo. She didn't realise her own arms coming around his middle and her face burrowing in his warm neck. It was like hugging a massive peaceful bear.

She realised it was the first time they actually touched for more than ten seconds. The most they had gotten to was seven seconds of him guiding her on how to hit the main target in darts. Nothing more.

She could feel him breathing in and out, his breath tickling her neck as it passed through her hair.

She shouldn't be hugging him. But she didn't want to let go. He felt like...

_No. Nope. No way. No. Nuh-uh._

She felt her too-tall walls come up and she stepped away, immediately missing the warmth of his arms.

"I can smell horse crap everywhere now," she whined, her shoulders dropping. "Thanks."

He clenched his jaw, swallowing thickly, and forced a smile. She could see only half of it reached his eyes; it was like he was still deep in thought.

All of a sudden, she saw his flirty, smug self come back to his body as he raised an eyebrow and actually smirked, a lopsided grin that _yes_ , made her blush. She was starting to admit it to herself now. _No way to deny anymore, right?_ "Oh, please, you know it was worth it."

She threw him a soft smile - softer than she meant, _damn it -_ and turned around, guiding the horse outside and hopping on its back once she was there, galloping until she got to the nearby lake. Once she reached the border, she jumped off and sat a few feet from the water line.

What was she doing? That was way too intimate. Of course, it would be normal if they lived in a normal place, with normal lives and normal people. They had known each other for nearly seven years, and, even after all that time, they had stayed in that medium level of light friendship that should be ruined by his endless flirting and smugness, but it just _wasn't_. She could see he never pushed her. Did he... Did he _want_ it to happen?

With a groan, she fell back, shielding her eyes with her forearm and sighing. She was _so_ screwed.

She spent about ten minutes like that, lying on the grassy ground, but not even near of falling asleep.

She heard the cracking noise of the grass as someone approached and sat beside her. She discreetly spies from under her arm and saw him. _Jesus_.

"Did you follow me here?," she spoke up, without looking at him.

"I can _see_ you from the stables, Swan. I merely _joined_ you."

She huffed out a laugh. "Did you finish the faeces crap?," she asked. "No pun intended."

He chuckled, and she felt him lay back. "Yes. But Liam's taking that for me tomorrow."

"But there was _a lot_ of stuff there," she uncovered her face, turning her head to him.

"How long do you think you've been here, Swan?," he raised an eyebrow and _God_ , that thing _had_ to be alive.

"About fifteen minutes?"

"Ah, now I understand why you don't like to make these rides," he said, a grin on his lips.

"Why?"

"It's been about half an hour since I saw you jump from that horse."

She lifted herself on her elbows. " _Noooo_..."

"Yes."

"How can so long pass so quickly?"

He shrugged. "Maybe you napped?"

She scoffed. "I don't _nap_ , I'm 24."

"I nap."

"Yes, because you have the mentality of an 8 year-old."

She looked over to see the smile still present and couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled from her chest.

"Swan?," he called after about five minutes - or what _seemed_ like five minutes... She didn't know anymore -. She turned her look from the sun setting behind the mountains to his face, even prettier under the orange sunset light. "Would it be too bold to ask you out?"

She didn't answer right away. Worse, she didn't answer _at all._ She just stood there, staring at his face, mouth agape because was he _really_ doing that?

"Should I take your silence as a 'no'?," he asked, unmoving. He wasn't even _looking_ at her, goddammit.

She shook her head quickly, snapping out of her reverie. _He's asking me out, okay, I shouldn't act like a teenage girl, just try to play it cool, you're a princess, you have done worse than answering._

What _do I answer?_ "Yes. I mean, no. It'd be... It'd be cool." God, she was babbling.  _Smooth_.

He turned his head to her, a surprised look on his face. "What, really?"

She took a deep breath because _Jesus, calm down._ "Yeah. Or was that one of the attempts of flirting?"

He sat up, the surprise still clear on his features. "Well, sort of, but I was serious. I _want_ to take you out in a date."

It was like she wasn't going to be queen in a few years. It was like she was a regular woman. It was simple, natural. It felt _right_.

In the end, a week later, without horses and their poo, they ended up in that same spot, a picnic towel under them and an actual _oil lamp_ giving their space a dim lighting. It was perfect. He kissed her right there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because modern royalty's awesome.


	44. Share

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's being hELLLLLLLLLLLL to get the words out. But hEY THE WORDS MUSIC VIDEO IN THREE DAYS.   
> (update: tbt me dying. OKAY imma rewatch it)

**Share**

 

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," she spat.

There they were, Mary Margaret, David, Ruby, Victor, August, Killian and Emma, at a Caribbean hotel management lounge, checking in the rooms. The others were sitting on the couches nearby while Emma checked in.

The tanned man behind the counter shook his head, a sheepish face. "I'm sorry, ma'am. There are four rooms booked."

Shoulders sagging, she looked over her shoulder to her friends, who were laughing at something Victor said.

She licked her lips. "Is there a way to book another room?"

The guy checked the computer before shaking his head, an expression of slight pity on his face. Emma sighed. This was already going downhill.

"But...," he suddenly spoke, his accent getting her attention. "We can book a second person to one of the rooms."

She resisted the urge to drop her head on the tall counter. "The only people who are not couples are Killian and August...," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Fully turning her attention to the man, she perched up. "I'll talk to them."

He nodded and she stepped away, ushering her feet to the group.

"Guys, we've got a problem."

"Are the rooms booked?," Mary Margaret asked in a desperate tone. David put his hand over hers to calm her down.

"Kinda?," Emma replied, slumping next to Ruby.

"What happened?," Victor asked.

She sighed. "Apparently, Mr Nolan only booked four rooms." All gazes turned to David, who sank more in the couch, an embarrassed look on his face. "And there are no other rooms available. And no way to add beds because the single bed in each room is a queen sized." She closed her eyes, wanting to crawl into a hole and stay there because they've been planning on making this trip for three months and she was having a hell of a time at work and all she wanted to do was relax in a sunny beach with white sand and a blue ocean extending to the horizon in front of her. Of course things would go wrong. "So I'll have to share a room with one of the single dudes." She opened one eye, looking at the two stubbled men sitting next to each other.

"I can't have roommates because I turn into wood at night," August blurted out, fidgeting on his seat.

"You could've just said you move a lot in your sleep...," Ruby retorted.

He narrowed his eyes at her and turned them back to Emma. She sighed - again - and looked at Killian. He had an eyebrow raised, as if he was thinking about the offer, even if it wasn't one and he had no choice except for making her sleep on the street. _Why_ did they have to travel to the Caribbean in January, when everything was full and crowded?!

Killian suddenly shrugged. "It's fine by me."

"Of course it's fine by you," Mary Margaret said, picking on her nails. "It would be fine even if you weren't fine with it. Emma wouldn't sleep outside."

_Aha, so I'm not the only one thinking of that possibility._

He lifted his hands in a sign of defeat and Emma nodded, getting up and walking towards the counter.

"You can book me in one of the one-person rooms," she said, a smile that didn't reach her eyes being forced on her lips.

The man nodded and she sighed in relief. At least she would sleep in a bed. Just one problem:

 _Killian Jones_ would be sleeping next to her.

 

* * *

 

"How're you feeling?," Ruby asked her from Emma's bed, where she lay back and studied the ceiling.

"About?"

Her friend lifter her head from the mattress and sent the blonde a skeptical look.

It had been three hours since they had taken their stuff to the rooms. It was less awkward than she thought it would be, unpacking her stuff in one of the cupboards on the room while he unpacked his; but it still was weird.

She had known Killian for nearly two years now, being introduced to him by David at a party. It was through Ruby she met August and through Mary Margaret she met Victor. That was before Vic and Ruby got together. David was a sort of a brother to her, but not quite: his mother had practically adopted her since she was 13 - she basically went to the foster home to sleep. She spent the rest of the day and some nights at the Nolans -. It was nice. They had lived together for about five months when they were 19 before Emma could afford her own place.

Emma shoved her last bathroom item - her toothbrush - to the corner of the vanity and stomped back into the room, falling onto the bed on her stomach, face first.

"This is going to be _hell_ , isn't it?"

It wasn't like she had a thing for Killian, but there was no way to deny that he was an ' _eye candy_ ', according to Ruby. She would _not_ remain calm if she caught a glimpse of him leaving the bathroom after a shower or coming back from an early morning run in a sweaty t-shirt. She definitely _wouldn't_.

Ruby chuckled. "Yes, it will. But you'll be fine... I think."

Emma lifted her head, snapping it towards her. "You think?"

"Well, he is incredibly hot and flirty. Plus, the sexual tension--"

"What sexual tension?"

Ruby laughed, as if Emma had said something sarcastic. When the blonde continued to show confusion, her smile dropped. "Oh, come on." Emma shrugged. "You're really trying to tell me I've been misinterpreting every look you sent each other when you're in the same room?"

"What are you talking about?," she sat up.

Ruby perched up, as if excited to finally share a gossip. "Okay, it's not sexual tension all the time. It's more like yearning."

"Yearning? I don't _yearn_."

"You may not, but he does," she whispered.

Emma was thankful all the others decided to go to the beach before them, because she couldn't bring herself to care that someone could simply barge in the room and catch them talking about said someone.

"Can you just cut the crap?," she said, holding up a hand.

"No, I can't. You really don't see it?"

"See _what_?!"

"That he's got a massive crush on you since he laid his eyes on yours?"

 _What_. "What?!"

Ruby gazed at her, mesmerised at the other's obliviousness. "Oh my God, you didn't know!" Emma started to say something, but the door flew open to show Mary Margaret in her bathing suit, a light skirt and big sunglasses, holding a ginormous beach bag.

"You're not ready yet?!," she asked, the smile on her eternally excited face falling into a frown and stomping into the room, tossing her things in a corner. She angrily - or as angry as Mary Margaret could look - took her glasses off and glared at the two of them. "Everyone's in the lounge! Go get ready. Ruby, go grab your stuff in your room."

"But I--"

" _Now_."

The tall brunette scoffed and walked out of the room.

"Now you, Emma. Go put your bathing suit and meet us downstairs in ten minutes at the most."

"Yes, _mom_."

She saw a flash of amusement in her friend's eyes and got up, watching as Mary Margaret gathered her things and left.

 _Well_ , she thought as she got ready. _This couldn't get much worse, could it?_

 

* * *

 

It _could_.

She could feel his eyes on her as she talked to Ruby. She wasn't even _sunbathing_ , for god's sake! She was freaking hugging her knees as half of her mind payed attention to her friend's story. His eyes were drilling a hole into the side of her head as he sat a few feet away from her.

She allowed her own eyes to wonder towards him after a while - he was _shirtless,_ come _on_ \- and he didn't even look away.Itwas like he was capturing her every move, reading her.

She suddenly heard a click next to her and snapped out of whatever the hell she was in, turning to Mary Margaret, who was snapping pictures of everyone every single possible moment.

"Why are you taking pictures?," Ruby complained.

"You look amazing, Rubs," Victor spoke up, getting his cue, without looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

"I want to save these memories in a box and return to them when we're all old and cranky," the pixie haired woman answered, making all of them awe.

"How sickly sweet of you, Mary Margaret," Killian said, turning his eyes to her and Emma felt as if she had a massive weight on her shoulders that was suddenly taken away. _Good God..._

The brunette smiled, satisfied, and sat beside David.

Emma sighed. _Okay, it's better than I thought._ It really _did_ have white sand and a light blue sea in front of them and palm trees and coconuts and clouds that passed quickly over their heads and it was really amazing. It looked exactly like the pictures.

And the beach wasn't even that full, though she nearly tripped over some French woman's legs on her way to their spot after getting herself a drink at the bar and she did _not_ know how to apologise in French. She wouldn't like to try either.

"So, Emma, how's Walsh?," August's distant voice pulled her out of her own thoughts. Ruby raised an eyebrow, David looked up and Killian straightened his spine.

Emma shrugged. "Like crap. It didn't feel real, so we just stopped."

He hummed. "Did he just look too much like a monkey?"

"What?"

"He did work at a Zoo," Killian chimed in, a smirk on his lips - it certainly did not make her blush.

She shrugged. "It may be. But he worked at a furniture store before."

"Has he ever had an interesting job?," he asked, the usual challenging look in his eyes.

"Not really."

His smirk widened. "So I thought."

She didn't break eye contact and could feel Ruby's gaze on her. She could picture the wolfish grin her friend had on her lips without needing to look over her shoulder. _Predictable_.

Emma gathered the flutter in her stomach every time he smirked at her, the twists and turns it made when he made an innuendo and the blush that crept to her cheeks when he invaded her personal space were there because, what if she also had a massive crush on him? What if she only realised it now? It is possible. _God, I'm screwed._

 

* * *

 

"Swan?"

She turned her head to the side as she walked along the buffet, studying the options of dishes and foods, when he placed himself next to her, also holding a plate. "What?"

"What the bloody hell are those?," he pointed at a dish.

She grimaced. "I have absolutely no idea... It looks gross."

"Aye..."

She spotted various slices of steak pilled up and hummed in approval. They looked good. So did the dark haired next to her. _Stop it._

"I hate that my taste in food's just not very varied..."

"What do you mean?," he frowned.

"I mean that," she paused for a second. "I don't like stroganoff."

"You _what_?!"

"Exactly!"

"How can you _not_ like stroganoff, Swan, that's an _outrage_!"

She huffed a laugh.

 

* * *

 

"Swan?", he whispered.

"What?" They were entering the room, surrounded in dark, incapable of turning on the lights for some reason.

"Did you put the card in the light switch?"

" _Yes_ ," she snapped. _No, wait._ "No."

She turned around, nearly bumping into his solid - _ugh, just stop it_ \- chest on the way and inserted the card. The lights immediately turned on. "Ah... You see, love, you need to learn the house's rules."

She rolled her eyes, dropping her bag on her-- no, wait. _Their_ bed. That was not good for her insides. She halted her steps, her breath hitching when the fact that she would have to share a bed with freaking Killian Jones finally dawning on her. _Oh no._

"Love?," she heard him say behind her and snapped out. _Again_.

She hummed, turning around. "What?"

He hesitated before smirking. "Do you have a side of the bed?," he asked. He seemed unquiet, even with the smug grin and the raised eyebrow. It was like he wanted to make another question.

"Uh, no, I'm okay with any of them."

 _God_ , it was getting more and more awkward each second that passed. How would they survive _five_ _days_ of this?

She grabbed her pyjamas, walking to the bathroom in a quick pace to run from his gaze.

She could always get the couch.

No, she could _not_ get the couch, it was half her size. _Ugh, just kill me._

She left the bathroom, tank top and flannel pants on, warily studying the place for the blue eyed. She found him in the balcony, his back to her as he looked at the moon in the ten o'clock night sky.

"Jones?," she called, after sitting on the bed. He poked his head into the room. "What time do you usually sleep?"

"Around eleven, why?"

"No, nothing." She paused, musing the alternative answers. "Me too."

 _Liar_. She always slept after two. Well, the sooner she sleeps, the sooner the next day will come, right?

She lay back, grabbing the random book she brought with her and opening it. She wasn't really reading it, though; she preferred watching him pace around, setting things up. She dropped the book once he entered the bathroom and sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. She _was_ tired. Mainly because of all the stress she was feeling towards having to share a bed with Captain Innuendo there.

"Tired, love?," she heard his voice ask, and she jumped in a fright.

She was about to retort when she laid her eyes on him. _Well, shit._ He was also wearing flannel pants, but the bastard was shirtless, folding a shirt and carefully tossing it over his suitcase. She could only frown to not gape at the - well, delightful - vision.

He pointed a finger at her. "No funny business," he teased, slumping on the bed next to her and getting under the covers, his back to her. She could basically feel his grin.

"Are you serious?," she asked, because _really_? She could feel his body heat from where she was sitting.

He hummed in affirmative and she rolled her eyes. Smacking the book closed, she put it on the nightstand and turned off her lamp, also settling under the covers and putting as much distance between her and Killian as she could.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, she woke up to the feeling of something moving under her head. _Weird, pillows don't move. Unless... Oh no_. She slowly opened one eye, spying her blurry surroundings. Okay, they weren't cuddling. Good. That would make things horrible - or terribly great - between them. But she was laying on his arm. It was tucked under her pillow, and he was facing her. He was also very close. As in _wow-I-can-see-all-of the-pores-in-your-face-and-could-probably-count-all-of-them-if-you-didn't-wake-up_ close.

He looked so peaceful. Literally, his features looked almost boyish. A flash of desire of waking up like that every morning flashed across her mind and she internally slapped herself. _No. Don't. Just-- no._ She sighed, trying not to wake him, because she simple enjoyed the view too much. When he was like this, she could really notice how handsome he was. She never really got that close to him - well... Except when she was trying all she could to not look at his lips and just focus on his eyes - and was staring. The bastard didn't even _snore_.

 _Okay, recompose, then get up._ She closed her eyes once again, breathing in deeply - no, it wasn't because of his scent.

Who was she kidding, _of course_ it was because of his scent.

She slowly sat up, the image of his close-up face lingering in her mind, and rubbed her eyes. She was screwed.

With yet another sigh, she raised to her feet, walking to the bathroom and closing the door behind her. She couldn't lie to her mirror: she didn't find the dark circles under her eyes she normally did when she woke up every morning. And she also couldn't deny that she felt great. _Crap_.

" _Swan?_ ," she heard his muffled voice call from probably the bed.

"Yeah?" She opened the door and found him - yes - on the bed, in the same position she left him, but with his eyes opened. She saw his blue irises move to her and his eyebrow shoot to his hairline.

"Good morning, beautiful," he greeted with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and closed the door again. And she obviously ignored the flutter she felt on her stomach when he called her beautiful. What if Ruby's theory was true?

 

* * *

 

"So, how was your first night?"

Emma groaned, happy that only Ruby was at the table while the others picked their food at the buffet. "Can you drop that subject?"

"Not until you admit that you also have a massively huge crush on him."

"I _don't_ have a mas--"

"Oh, _please_ , Emma, I see the way you blush when he says something to you."

"Everyone blushes when he says something to them."

"Because everyone has a massively huge crush on him?," the brunette retorted.

Emma dropped her head on the table. She hated arguing with Ruby.

"Come on, Ems, you should _take_ the chance! This gorgeous man to whom any woman would happily try and seduce is completely _smitten_ with you."

The blonde groaned again, and felt someone's presence next to her. She turned her head to find August next to them. "What are you two talking about?"

"August, tell Emma Killian has a crush on her."

"Crush?," he laughed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Try secret obsession."

Ruby threw her the _I-told-you-so_ glance and turned her eyes back to him. "And would you please tell Emma she has a crush on him."

"She thinks she doesn't?," he laughed again, focused on his pancakes. He looked up, smile falling. "You _do_?!"

"She won't accept it!"

"Would you two stop teaming up against me; I do _not_ have a crush on him," she hissed at them.

"Seriously, though, I don't know how much happier he would be if you two ever started dating. You should, you know?," he added, picking a grape from his plate and throwing in his mouth.

"Why?"

"Because you're perfect for each other?," Ruby suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Emma, I'm serious. You should do it." She gazed at August's warm blue eyes and clenched her jaw. She shouldn't. She couldn't. "Take a leap of faith."

"Emma, how was your night with Killian?," Mary Margaret chimed in as she sat next to Ruby.

"Ugh, not you too!"

"Mary Margaret, be honest with me: do they or do they not have a crush on each other?," Ruby demanded, serious eyes fixing on the pixie haired.

She immediately answered, damn it. "Totally. I thought they had finally seen they were meant to be last night."

"Oh, come on!"

"What's wrong?," David asked, finally arriving with Killian.

"Nothing," they all replied in unison. David would go all dad-mode on Emma and, well, Killian was _right there._

The two men eyed them warily, but let it go when they started to talk about the plane for today.

 

* * *

 

Three days went by and Emma was nearly ripping her hair out.

She had feelings for him. She had feelings for him and she could finally see it. He had feelings for her and she could finally see it too. She avoided contact, eye and touch, spoke roughly fourteen words with him each day in an attempt to just survive those vacations.

No matter how much distance she put between them each night, she always woke up closer and closer to him every morning. It was a living hell.

Today was no different. It was their fourth day there, the last night they would sleep in the same bed, but that was in fifteen hours. Right now, she woke up with soft breathing on her shoulder.

 _Shoulder_?!

She began her morning ritual of opening one eye and inspecting the space around her. She was lying in her stomach, her face turned to him, and nearly jumped off the bed when she found the mop of soft black hair - with an amazing smell - so close to her face. He was lying on his side next to her; she could feel his knee touching hers and, most importantly, his arm over her waist. _No, no, no, no, no, this cannot be good, nope._

It was so _comfortable_ , though. That warm weight over the shirt's fabric, pinning her in her place for the sake of just enjoying it. She didn't want to move. But she had to.

Big mistake.

When she removed her arms from under her pillow, she felt him stir. _Crap, crap, crap, crap..._ But, instead of waking up, his arm tightened. _Crap, crap, carp, crap_ ; _no, do not enjoy this, don't, you can't, you're going to regret it._

_Well, shit._

She couldn't. She couldn't move. She didn't want to move. She didn't move. Instead, she found herself lightly breathing in his dark locks, finding this comforting smell in them. They tickled her nose in the best way possible, making her smile - _why was she smiling?!_ \- and she could stop herself: she nuzzled it. She _nuzzled_ his hair. And kept her face there. There was no going back now. She felt his breathing change, and his arm tightened a bit more.

She was most certainly screwed.

 

* * *

 

They didn't exchange a word the whole day. She avoided eye contact. Ruby asked her if something had happened. She lied and told her nothing had. But it _had_ happened. And she felt divided.

One part of her was scolding her second after second for showing such vulnerability to the person she shouldn't. Another part of her kept cheering because it saw the faintest glow of hope in actually having a good relationship that would probably last a long time.

She didn't know _what_ to think anymore.

The thought of finally reaching the last night dawned on her and the sides battled once again. One was happy to finally get rid of such torment; the other was sad to be the last night with the warm being next to her on bed.

When she turned off the lights, turning her back to him and closing her eyes, trying to coax sleep to come, she could feel his gaze on her.

"Emma?," she suddenly heard him whisper. _You have to answer at some point._

She hummed, incapable of uttering words without stutter.

"You're acting strange today."

"Am I?," she managed to say, eyes still closed.

"Ruby and Mary Margaret agreed with me."

 _Those bitches_... "Why would I be acting strange?" She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Maybe because you realised something has changed."

 _Shit_. "What could have changed?"

"Have you ever considered having feelings for me?"

 _Blunt idiot._ "Does annoyance count?"

"Emma, I'm serious." _God_ , he shouldn't sound so attractive when serious.

"What do you want me to say, Killian?" She was tempted to turn around and gaze into those stupidly blue eyes that probably glowed in the dark. "That I might have had feelings for you for a long time but never actually realised? That I would give a lot to hear you say the same?" She managed to make it sound like she was scolding him for such thoughts, but she knew she was an open book to him.

She could picture an adorable frown forming on his brow, jaw clenching, his eyes penetrating her soul and taking all the info he needed. "What are you talking about, Swan?"

She sighed. "Good night, Killian."

He didn't say anything for about three minutes - she counted - until she felt him shift behind her. "What if I did feel the same?," she heard him whisper, and she couldn't stop her breath from hitching.

_What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?_

_Take a leap of faith._

_Oh, what the hell._

She turned on her spot, startling him, and grabbed the chains on his neck, roughly pulling him to her and crashing their lips together. It took him about three seconds to finally respond, cradling her head and moving his mouth against hers.

He tasted of fresh mint and smelled like the ocean. His lips were soft - fact that nearly passed unnoticed, since she was pulling him to her with a much force as she could without hurting him.

His arm descended from her head, coming to snake around her waist and pulling her closer. Her hand was holding onto his shoulder as if her life depended on it, supporting her as she did her best not to melt in his warm embrace.

Once breathing became a problem for them, they pulled apart, resting foreheads and bumping noses. She felt him smile as his lips lightly brushed over hers, her eyes closed just savouring what just had happened.

She kissed Killian Jones. She kissed _the hell_ out of Killian Jones. And she felt _good_. She felt light and carefree and like she could sleep right there.

She also couldn't help but smile back. It just felt _right_. It felt right to be right there where she was.

_Maybe it is._

He leaned in once more, pressing his lips to her cheek and just leaving it there. She closed her eye again. _It definitely is._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I miss the ease I had to write Timeless." was what I said here on As You Wish. Ahem, seems like I've taken providence, hey?


	45. Roomies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm more tired than I should and totally not in the mood for angst or questioning or just discomfort in general, so here.

**Roommates**

 

" _JONES!_ "

He was brutally pulled off his daze by the furious yell coming from the living room.

He quickly left his bed and walked out the bedroom, raising an eyebrow at the drenched form panting in the door hall. "Evening, lass," he threw her a smirk. He could have sworn he heard her _growl_. "Someone's cranky," he frowned, taking one reluctant step towards her.

"No _kidding_!," she retorted, stomping towards the couch and tossing her bag, jacket and scarf on the rest.

He rushed to the corridor cupboard, taking a warm blanket, as she curled up in a ball on _her_ armchair. Slowly approaching, he draped the cloth over her shoulders, and was thankful to see her shoulders sagging in relief.

He sat on the armrest, leaving his arm around her shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down her back and upper arm.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?," he asked in a calming tone.

She shook her head as she dropped it on his thigh. She was trembling, _why is she trembling?!_

It was mid-December; surely being wet from head to toes outside mustn't have felt good.

"Do you want some hot cocoa?"

She nodded, a tiny smile on her lips, and he gave her arm a quick reassuring squeeze before getting up. She would tell him what happened, eventually.

"Killian?," she called, interrupting his steps. He hummed in response. "Don't forget the cinnamon," she reminded, without looking up.

Even so, he smiled. "I would _never_."

Killian went into the kitchen, opening the mugs cupboard and picking one - her favourite, the one with the little crown on it -, leaving it on the counter as he got the milk and turned on the stove. As the milk boiled, he ripped open the package of cocoa and poured it in the empty mug. After boiling it, he poured the milk and opened the fridge, taking the whipped cream.

After two years living with Emma Swan, you end up learning her ways.

Sprinkling cinnamon on the white cream, he took the mug to his nose and sniffed it. _Nice enough_.

He walked with the mug towards the unmoved form of Emma on the armchair and reclaimed his space on the armrest, her head returning to its previous spot on his thigh. He handed her the hot cocoa, savouring the vision of instantly happier and giddier Emma. It was like the child in her that only appeared during movies and stupid arguments was gaining control over her body.

He waited for her to finish the mug, still running his hands up and down her arms and back, until she finally sighed.

"I fell on a puddle."

"You _fell_ on a _puddle_?," he asked, trying his best to hide the amusement in his voice. "How on earth did you manage to do that?"

"Apparently, chasing some athlete dude who has skipped bail across an icy ground is not as easy as it sounds."

"So you fell on a puddle and walked home?"

"No, I got the guy, obviously. But he managed to elbow my ribs," she grimaced, lifting a hand to the sore spot.

"So... Bad day?"

She let out a weak laugh. "Yeah, you could say that."

"What do you want to do?," he asked, getting up - ignoring the tiny whimper she let out once he was out of reach - and grabbing the things she tossed on the couch, taking them to the kitchen table.

She sighed again, face in a frown of concentration. "I don't know, normally you're the idea guy."

"I'm the _idea guy_?," he repeated, chuckling under his breath.

She smiled, closing her eyes. "I don't know, it seemed the proper name for the person who usually gives ideas."

"Smart move, Swan."

He slumped on the couch, looking at her with a grin and raised eyebrows.

"What are we gonna do?," she wondered, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her as she got up and stiffly sat next to him.

"We are going to watch _The Avengers._ "

She gasped, a big toothy grin on her lips that made him smile. She was such a baby in the best way possible.

He opened his arm as he scrolled down Netflix, offering her the warmth and comfort he knew she wanted.

She took it in the end.

 

* * *

 

Of course she would fall asleep before Hulk and Thor's fight. Of course she would miss Hulk beating the crap out of Loki. Of course she would sleep through the last half of the movie.

Usually, he would scold her for it. But he knew she had a harsh day, so all he did was keep rubbing his hand on her arm. He tried not to breathe in her hair, the head rested on his shoulder making it all too difficult.

Of course he did it at some point. Or several.

When the credits started to roll in, she stirred. _Of course._

"What did I miss?," she asked, voice heavy and slurring. She shifted on her place, but kept her head on his shoulder.

"Possibly all the good parts," he replied, sleep coming to him too.

"Why didn't you wake meeeee...?," she whined, weakly - lazily - smacking his chest.

"You had a shitty day, love; the least I could do was let you sleep." He sighed. "But, _sure_ , you _could've_ waited a bit longer--"

Her laugh cut him off, and he couldn't help his own from bubbling from his chest.

After the it died, the credits ended and Killian noticed how dark it was, only the white and red light coming from TV. They stayed in this comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's presence, for quite some time. It was only after around ten minutes he noticed she had fallen back asleep.

 

* * *

 

All Emma remembered in the morning was, at some point in the night, being lighter than the air, then the feeling of the soft sheets of her bed on her back and her sudden wish of not letting go of the only comfort she found that night.

She remembered grasping his wrist and not letting it go. When he tried to pry from her grip, she squeezed it and he sighed.

"Do you want me to stay?," he had asked in an amused tone, as if she were a child asking for her father to stay until she fell asleep.

She also remembered nodding and relaxing at the feeling of the mattress dipping behind her and a warm presence being pressed against her back, an arm snaking around her waist.

That's when she blacked out.

He didn't leave in the morning, she soon found out after feeling the tickling of breathing on her neck.

She was glad he didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff.


	46. Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hEY THIS WAS COMPLICATED TO WRITE BECAUSE I WROTE ABOUT 3K WORDS IN LIKE AN HOUR AND THEN LIKE FOUR DAYS TO WRITE THE REST OF IT. This is a little monster, I'm so proud of the length.

**Apocalypse**

 

They met when they bumped into each other while running from the flesh eating beings that chased them inside a supermarket in Phoenix. Emma was running from a fat, blood covered body in decomposition through the aisles while Killian was cornered by two teenage "girls" who growled and looked at him with a murderous and hungry - in the other meaning of the word. The one that points at ' _food_ ' - look.

Killian flinched when he heard a gun noise, afraid that the person with said gun would think he was a zombie and shoot him, and relieved to know he wasn't alone. It had been weeks, months, since he had seen a proper human. The only times he spoke was a useless 'stay back' to a zombie or the rare occasions he talked to himself.

She appeared three seconds later: the angel. Well, an disheveled angel covered in fresh blood, but angel either way. She had a blonde hair that tumbled down her back and was wearing dark jeans, boots and a leather jacket.

He glanced at her over the shoulder of Murderous Teenager #1, sending her a silent plea.

He saw her internal struggle as Murderous Teenager #2 pounced towards him and he dodged, nearly running into Murderous Teenager #1. That seemed to shake her off her battle, since he heard two gunshots sound a second later. The monsters froze and tumbled to the ground, and he sighed in relief.

She approached him warily, a frown on her brow and her shotgun - _shotgun_ \- partially pointed at him.

"Who are you?," she asked, her voice slightly rough, probably from lack of use too.

"My name's Killian Jones," he replied, hands raised in surrender. He saw how she seemed to relax a bit from the fact that he could speak.

"Never thought of bringing a gun?," she retorted, fully lowering hers.

He scratched the spot behind his ear. "I dropped it while I was running..." The corners of her mouth twitched in light amusement. "And what might be the name of my saviour?"

She hesitated before speaking. "Emma Swan."

"Well, thank you, Miss Swan, I owe you my life," he mock-bowed, a grin on his face. "We're are you headed, love?"

He saw the way she clenched her jaw at the word 'love', but he couldn't help it.

"Why should I tell you?," she bit, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I just want to know if we're headed on the same direction," he justified. He saw her harsh expression soften a tad bit and she sighed.

"Boston." _Nice_. "What about you?," she added, tucking the gun on her holster - she had a _holster_ for a _shotgun_ \- and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Little quiet town in Maine. I haven't been there for years..."

She rocked back and forth on her heels as they stood in a slightly awkward silence. He could see she was eager to get out of that place.

So he decided to break it. "Do you have a car?," he wondered, slightly anxious all of a sudden, remembering the unfortunate events of the past hour.

She nodded with pursed lips. "Do you?"

He huffed a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck with his finger. "I... Sort of crashed it about an hour ago--"

"You _crashed_ your car in the middle of a zombie apocalypse?," she repeated, incredulous. "What the hell were you trying to do?"

"I dodged a pair of zombies--"

"You should know by now it's best to just run over them."

"Aye, I do. I just...," he stopped.

She tilted her head, all of the teasing look vanishing from her eyes. "What?," she asked softly.

"They were two children," he shrugged, the scene of two half-decomposed 6 year-olds pacing up the street towards his car, a dead look on their faces.

She stepped a tiny step forward. "And you couldn't make it." It wasn't a question. She had a sort of pained look on her face, as if she pitied those children.

He nodded and looked down at his shoes. He didn't know if he felt embarrassed or sad.

He lifted back his head at her voice. "Do you, um... Do you want a ride?," she offered quietly, not making eye-contact.

He raised his eyebrow at her. "Are you sure?"

She licked her lips as she glanced at his eyes. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

A sudden smile tugged on his lips. "It appears you're stuck with me, Swan."

She rolled her eyes and turned around, ushering herself to the exit. He didn't miss the small smirk on her lips.

 

* * *

 

"N-- okay, are you even serious?," she demanded, fully turning to him on her seat.

He chuckled, eyebrows raised, without peeling his eyes off the road. "I swear, the seagull just _attacked_ him."

"And just because of that you think it was infected?," she asked, skeptical.

"It was covered in blood!," he exclaimed, quickly glancing at her and seeing the grin on her face.

It had been about five months since she found him on that supermarket. They had taken her yellow bug ("I honestly thought you would have a massive truck or something." "What? Why?" "You seem like a tough lass; it only made sense.") as a main transport and it worked better than it looked.

Most of the signs and streets were down or simply full of bodies, so they were frequently lost or forced to find another way to their destination. They took about two weeks just to leave Arizona, which should be nearly physically impossible. They accidentally found themselves in South Dakota around day 56, which made them laugh at how ridiculous it all was.

When they got in Chicago, a month later, Emma nearly killed a healthy human girl. She introduced herself as Ruby - which was probably why her hair had red strakes in it and a bright red lipstick on her lips; honestly, who would bother to put on make up during the _apocalypse_? - and Killian was surprised to find out that she didn't have a car or anything. She was _willingly walking_ through the country.

"Don't you ever get tired or anything?," Emma had asked.

Ruby had only shrugged. "You get used to it, really."

Killian had hesitated before looking at Emma. His eyes had a silent request that he was sure she got it. She had frowned in disbelief, softly shaking her head. He'd tried to put on his best kicked puppy eyes to her, and had also seen when it affected her. Her green orbs where practically screaming ' _don't look at me like that_ ' and he grinned victoriously when she had closed her eyes and sighed.

"Would you like to come with us?," she'd offered, turning her look to Ruby.

The brunette's eyes brightened as she smiled and nodded.

A month had passed when they'd dropped Ruby off in Georgia for her own reasons and they went on to the North. Since then, they had been on their own again, and Killian was glad. Ruby was chipper and excited every day. Emma had once grumbled something that sounded like ' _who the hell can be like this when the world is ending_ ' and Killian could only chuckle.

For nearly two days after the brunette'd parted, the car was oddly quiet. But for the following two weeks, Emma and Killian found themselves enjoying their own kind of humour and calmness. But it was sometimes interrupted. Like now.

"What's that?," Emma perched up in her seat, leaning towards the windshield to get a better look. Killian slowed the car down, also trying to see what she was pointing at.

"It looks like--"

"Oh my god..."

All the colour drained from his face. There was a pile of corpses. Too small to be made of adults.

"That is horrible," he heard her say, her voice cracking.

He swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw. He couldn't stand watching or thinking of all the children who had died in the middle of the chaos.

"Turn around," Emma demanded quietly.

He didn't wait a beat, roughly turning the steering wheel and stomping on the accelerator.

The worst part was that it was quite normal to see corpses along the road.

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?," he asked, a pang of worry in his chest making his frown deepen.

"We have to, Killian," she answered, tucking her gun on the holster around her waist and looking up at him. "Our food's scarce and that is the newest looking market we've seen in two states."

She was right and he hated it. They wouldn't survive much if they didn't look for more food.

Her plan was for him to enter through the backdoor while she entered through the glass ones in the front. She gave him her shotgun as she tucked away two pistols. He always wondered how she had so many guns for someone who travelled alone before him.

He nodded stiffly. They never risked this much on anything, so of course he was wary of everything about this damn plan.

"Killian," she called softly, putting a hand on his arm. "It's gonna be okay; don't worry."

He had to admit, he felt the magnetism between them the second he entered that car for the first time. On day 23, he found himself staring at her while she drove. A few days after Ruby settled the backseat as her place, she asked him when had he and Emma started dating while the latter went to open a gate outside. He had answered that they weren't in a relationship, which made the red-lipped frown in confusion. A week after she was gone, he realised he had strong feelings for Emma. But he also realised she only saw him as a friend.

He wasn't worried for his life; he was worried for _hers_. He couldn't lose her for the zombies. Not after she _saved_ him from them.

He snapped out of his internal conflict when the comforting warmth of her hand pulled away.

She started to walk towards the building, eyeing her sides. She halted her steps and looked at him over her shoulder, nodding softly. ' _You can do this_.'

Taking a deep breath, Killian went to the right, circling the building, searching for the unliving monsters every second that passed. He found the iron door and pulled it opened, surprised to see the lights on. He looked around, his mind jumping from zombies to Emma when a gunshot sounded. Straightening his back, he ran through the hall and was glad to find it ended in near the main entrance. He looked for a blond cascade of hair, rapidly pacing through the entries of the aisles when he spotted it.

Five - _five_ \- zombies were advancing on her, her hand clutching to the gun, her back to him. He felt his stomach drop when one of them pounced on her, his heart missing a beat. But of course she dodged it, she was _bloody Emma Swan._

Shaking out of his frozen state, he ran through the aisle next to where she was, turning left in the end and facing the monsters' backs. He aimed and shot one of them in the head, nearly exploding it with the gun's force.

All of them turned around, not missing a beat in advancing towards him. He threw Emma a smirk over one of the zombie's shoulder, but he furrowed his brow when her eyes widened. It took him a second to realise she was looking behind him.

Clenching his jaw so hard it hurt, he slowly turned his head around.

There was at least a _dozen_ of them coming down the aisle.

He glanced at her quickly, not seeking for help, but only transmitting with his eyes the only message that came to his head: ' _Run_.'

He saw her softly shake her head, and he shot two of the zombies on his way to her, pleased to see she shot the other two in a blink of an eye.

He finally reached her, desperately clutching her shoulders and levelling his face with hers. _Thank gods they walk slowly._

"Emma, you have to go," he said firmly, gazing into her emerald eyes.

" _What?!_ No, we can both leave."

He looked to the side, seeing a whole shelf full of canned food. Letting go of her, he took ten of the cans and shoved them into her arms.

"Take these."

"Killian, you're coming," she said. It wasn't a question.

He smiled sadly, softly pushing her towards the glass doors. When they outed the aisle, he saw three more monsters coming from both sides. _God, it looks like they've done it on purpose..._

"You have to store these in the trunk; I'll slow them down."

She shook her head. "No, you're coming with me."

"Quit being so stubborn and _go_ ," he said, a humourless chuckle leaving his mouth.

The six zombies coming from the sides were a few feet from them now. He ushered her out of the door, exiting the building to the outside.

"No--"

" _Go!_ ," he said, pushing her a bit more strongly, and he saw her freeze for a moment before running to the car. He looked over his shoulder one more time before aiming and shooting at the nearest zombies.

He knew it was a stupid reason, but he preferred not risking it at all than to hope they're fast enough.

He soon found himself _surrounded_ by them - they were apparently more than he thought.

 _Damn_.

He then heard her voice.

"Killian!"

 _No, no, no, no._ "GO!"

She yelled something back, but it was covered by the deafening growls from the zombies and one gunshot.

" _NO!_ Go, Emma!"

She said something more but he still didn't hear it, shooting and punching and hitting with the back of the gun all heads, noses, throats, chests and arms he could find.

He finally heard the thud of the door closing in the car and the rumble of the engines. He sighed, relieved, as he shot three zombies. She was safe. Well, saf _er_.

He somehow managed to open a gap in the mob and run through it, desperately ushering his legs to move and bolting away from the supermarket, to the opposite side that Emma had driven. He only stopped when he couldn't see the zombies anymore.

But he didn't feel relieved.

The only thought that occupied his head now was that Emma was gone and the chance to find her again would be minimal.

 _Great_.

 

* * *

 

About two days later, living of the few cans of food he found in another supermarket not too far from the previous - and strangely deserted too - and various bottles of water - and surprisingly not crossing paths with any zombies -, he was found by a group of humans.

"Are you a zombie?," a short, chubby man with a red hat asked.

"I don't think I'd be able to talk if I were," he answered, slightly annoyed.

The man lowered his gun and tilted his head. "Why are you alone?"

His chest was suddenly heavy when he answered. "I wasn't..."

"Oh." The man - who was still to tell Killian his name - swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"She's not _dead_!," he said, noticing in the man's eyes the implied message. "Hopefully not, at least."

"Oh," he blinked again. "Well, do you want to _stay_ alone?"

"What?"

"We always have room for one more," the man said, pointing over his shoulder to the blue van behind him.

As in a cue, four heads poked out of it: a dark haired pre-teen, a serious looking brunette with dark eyes, a blue eyed man with a dirty-blonde hair and a tiny child with brown curls and eyes and a dimpled smile.

Killian eyed them all wearily. "Why would you want me to come with you?"

The blue eyed in the van shrugged. "It's never good to stay alone, without transport and food in the middle of an ending world."

 _What would be the harm?_ _I mean, there's a child with them._

After a moment thinking, he sighed and nodded. The little kid - Roland, as his father, Robin, introduced him a minute later - cheered.

 

* * *

 

Three months later, and he still dreamed of her. At least he didn't speak in his sleep.

It was interesting that almost none of them were nightmares. He didn't dream of her dying or getting hurt; those thoughts were reserved to his time awake. He dreamed of an old world, peaceful and perfect. He dreamed with making her pancakes or going to a basketball game in her company. He dreamed of late night Netflix and walks on the beach. Those were his _dreams_.

He never told any of his companions about Emma, wanting to keep her for himself like a secret. They knew he had been travelling with someone before them, but he never mentioned who she was and they never asked, noticing it was a delicate subject. Not even little Roland pried.

And he was thankful for it.

The group told him stories of their 'adventure', as the excited curly haired put, how they lost Robin's wife, Marian, when Roland was about two and how they found Regina and her son a few months ago, running from a few zombies. Killian saw the chemistry between her and Robin, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't hoping that something happened.

Even though he liked the company of everyone in the group, he still missed the sound of the classic rock softly coming out of the speakers, the constant smell of cinnamon and vanilla in the car and dark red leather jackets. He still missed Emma.

"Hey, Killian," he was pulled out of his own thoughts by Henry's soft call as the latter sat next to him.

He asserted his eyes from the window, fixing them on the boy's.

"Henry, everything okay?"

He nodded. "I was just thinking... Did you... _Lose_ someone?"

 _Ah, there it is._ He licked his lips, a frown on his brow, Emma's blonde hair flashing in his mind. "Sort of."

"She didn't die, I can see."

"You can _see_?," the older repeated.

"In your eyes. They're not sad or grieving; they're longing." This boy is way too wise for his own good. "So... What happened?"

He didn't feel the way he thought he would. He wasn't angry at him for bringing it up. He was quite relieved, actually.

He took a deep breath. "Well, I was travelling with this woman. Her name was Emma..."

He told Henry their story, leaving his feelings out of it, and saw that, somewhere along the tale, Roland and Robin joined Henry in the listening. He could see Regina was paying attention to it two seats ahead.

It was like a massive weight had been taken off his shoulders.

When he was nearing the end, the van came to a stop.

He frowned, getting up from his seat and walking to the back of the driver's seat.

"Smee? Why did we stop?"

"I think there are people there..."

"Where?" Looking out of the window, he was surprised to see the silhouette of Boston against the 5 o'clock orange sky. He wasn't even paying attention to where they were going, but Emma's and his own voice sprang into his head: ' _I just want to know if we're headed on the same direction_.' ' _Boston_.'

This was Emma's destination all along. The pang of longing his his chest again and he grimaced.

"You okay?," he hears Smee ask.

"Aye..." He turns his attention back to the outside and spots three different cars gathered a mile away, all making a big triangle, and a wavering light coming from between them.

"That's a curious place and setting for a camp...," Robin puts, making Henry chuckle.

Smee slowed down as he neared the spot, nearly running over the figure that slid over one of the car's hood, a gun raised and pointed at the car. Smee halted to a stop and Killian didn't hesitate to jump of the van, arms lifted in a silent request to not shoot. He felt Robin doing the same next to him.

"We don't want any trouble!," Robin said, which indeed made the curly haired man lower his gun, making the other men drop their hands.

Another man came from behind the car, a blonde one, unarmed but with a threatening look on his face.

"Who are you?", the latter asks firmly.

"I'm Robin, Robin Locksley. And this is--"

" _Killian_?"

 _What? No_. Killian turned his head to the blonde man, seeing the angel behind him.

_She's here._

She was there. Leather jacket, gun in hand - loose in astonishment, but still - and boots.

She was there.

" _Emma_ ," he breathed, more to himself than to anyone else.

He heard the loud noise the gun made when it hit the ground, and didn't really think when he ran towards her - immensely happy she was doing the same - and tightly enveloped her with his arms, burying his nose in the crook of her neck and breathing her in.

"I can't believe you're alive," she said, and he heard how watery her voice was, which made him chuckle.

"You may be badass, Swan, but so am I."

She laughed, squeezing him harder. He pressed a kiss to her neck where he face was nestled and felt her shiver. He inwardly laughed.

"I missed you," he whispered, tightening his arms around her.

They just stood there for about a minute, oblivious of the outer world. He was vaguely aware of Robin and the curly haired man talking somewhere near them and Regina lightly chatting with Roland and Henry near the van behind Killian.

When they finally pulled away, he kept his arms around her waist and she rested her hands on them.

He took in the happiness in her eyes, the green sparkling with joy and unshed tears.

He wanted to kiss her.

He _really_ wanted to kiss her.

 _Not here._ He wanted to make it special.

Finally letting her out of his arms, he stood on his spot when she walked towards the blonde man who was watching the scene with a confused look.

"David, it's okay," she assured him. "They're okay," she added, her eyes searching for Killian's and quickly finding them.

" _Henry?!_ ," he heard a female voice behind him and turned around, seeing a pixie-haired brunette looking at the boy.

"Miss Blanchard!," Henry greeted.

 _Reunions..._ , he internally mused with a chuckle.

 

* * *

 

Killian later found out they'd made a fire in the space between the cars and that the cars where disposed that way for protection. Quite clever, really.

David, the blonde man, invited them all to sit with them around the fire and Mary Margaret _cooked_ the dinner. It was an ancient method, according to her, but the beans were definitely better hot. Roland suggested they went out to hunt animals, which made them all laugh.

"I don't think he realises how adorable he is," Emma had muttered to him.

She was sitting next to him, hugging her knees - closer than a friend would, Killian noticed as she shifted and he felt her side brush his. He also realised how his arm was resting behind her. Not that he was complaining - and he was literally _cherishing_ every moment that passed.

He _had_ missed her. _A lot._

Apparently, David and Mary Margaret - Miss Blanchard - were married, Graham - the curly haired man - had nearly killed Mary Margaret about a year before and Emma had been with them for about two months. Henry used to study at the same school Mary Margaret taught at before the virus attacked.

After about an hour, it all quieted down, only light whispers here and there. It was nice. Well, except for the fact that the world was _ending_ , but still.

"What happened after that day?," Emma asked softly, her voice nearly a whisper.

 _That day_. She couldn't even say it. "I was alone for about two days when I stumbled over them," he told her, nodding towards his group.

"How the hell did you manage get out of there?" She had a teasing smile on her face.

"I just shot until I saw the daylight," he said, amused.

She laughed, proceeding to resting her head on his shoulder. Was that really happening or was his mind just playing tricks?

"I nearly crashed the bug like a week later..."

"You _crashed_ your car in the middle of a zombie apocalypse?," he mirrored one of her first words to him all those months before.

" _Nearly_!," she added, smacking his chest.

"I really missed you, you know?," he whispered some time later. She looked up at him, eyes fixing on his as he tilted his head. "I missed all the badassness and the endless talks about how to make a proper hot chocolate." Emma chuckled, shifting on her spot and snuggling a bit deeper onto him.

"I missed you too, believe it or not," she raised an eyebrow.

"What does that mean?," he protested.

She laughed, but didn't say anything else.

When Roland, Henry and Mary Margaret had fallen into slumber, the rest of the group started to prepare for the night.

Emma promptly offered to take the first shift at watching, standing up and grabbing a gun, and Killian found himself completely awake.

"I'll join you."

He saw how the corners of her lips twitched. He also stood up, taking his own gun and checking for ammo. Emma slid over one of the cars' hood as she did earlier and he followed.

The road was empty for the visible miles in both sides. Emma leaned against the side of the bug and sighed. He settled next to her.

"Long day?," he asked, bumping his shoulder with hers.

She huffed, amusement in her eyes. "You have no idea."

"How did you meet David and Mary Margret?"

"I was in my car one night, pulled over because I needed some sleep, when I heard the sound of an engine approaching. They were happy they found someone else properly alive, and we decided to hit the road together."

He hummed, adverting his gaze from the side of her face to the starred sky. "I missed seeing the sky like this."

She looked up and he heard her sigh again. "I'm glad you're _alive_."

"So am I," he chuckled. "I may have thought you could have some troubles along your way. But I always reminded myself that you're Emma Swan and everything vanished."

She laughed softly, fully relaxing against the car. "You know, I really didn't think you had made it. It looked like an impossible situation."

" _Impossible_ is my middle name."

She snorted. "It really isn't."

"Aye, it's not."

The silence that followed was comfortable. He could hear her breathing.

Suddenly he had an idea.

"What are you doing?," he heard her ask as he turned around and climbed on the car's hood. "Killian--"

"Hush, love, and join me," he offered, finally settling on the roof of the bug, his feet dangling in front of the side windows.

"You are insane."

"Better view from up here."

She shook her head but climbed on the hood. He held out a hand to help her up and, when she grabbed it, he pulled her to his side. When she was finally settled, he didn't let go of it, and was pleased to see she didn't make any move to remove it from his grip, entwinInge their fingers instead. He fully embraced the warmth that spread across his chest whenever he looked at her face.

"How has it only been three months?," she asked, her tone not above a whisper, as she gazed at the stars. "It felt forever."

"Well, the important thing," he quickly put. "Is that I'm here now."

She looked at him, her eyes studying his face, and he flashed a small smile, putting one of her own on her lips.

_Her lips._

He wanted to kiss her.

He _could_ kiss her.

Should he kiss her?

His internal debate was interrupted when _she_ leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers, and he asked himself why hadn't they done that before. He lifted his free hand to her face, resting it on her jaw, his thumb caressing her chin.

Her lips were soft under his, the sweetness of the kiss surprising him. She smelled of vanilla and cinnamon, just as he remembered. He was suddenly very aware of how close she was sitting, the warmth her body was irradiating making him untangle their fingers and pull her closer with his arm around her waist.

When they finally broke off for air, she rested her forehead against his, noses bumping, and she finally opened her eyes. His quick heartbeat stuttered when she smiled.

"Maybe that's why Ruby kept grinning at us," she mumbled, her eyes fixing on his lips.

He huffed a laugh before diving in again. If they ever crossed paths with her, he would definitely thank her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever to write that ending oh my god.


	47. Co-stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS FINALLY HERE. THE EASE. I WROTE THIS SO EASILY, I NEARLY CRIED WHEN I WAS DONE
> 
> And hEY EXACTLY ONE MONTH TO OUAT I THINK IM HAVING A HEART ATTACK

**Co-stars**

 

Of course, when her agent called her saying that the producers had invited her to a second audition, she knew they'd liked her. And it also meant auditioning with the already chosen male star. She didn't know who he was, which complicated things a bit, but that didn't hold her back.

It was certainly confirmed when she strolled into the building, getting into the empty elevator and going up to the 7th floor.

"Emma! I am so glad you chose to keep your place," the director - Gregory? No, _Graham_ \- greeted, opening his arms and inviting her into the room.

There was a long table along window wall, and a clear space in front of it. In the table, were sat the three main producers, the writer, a man she didn't know who was and, last but not least - hopefully -, her co-star.

She had to admit, it took her a bit of effort to not gape at how annoyingly attractive he was. He seemed to be on his thirties, a black tousled hair, a scruff she would give a lot to just scrape her fingernails on. Not only was he gorgeous, he was reading Harry Potter, in freaking reading glasses. She could see the blue irises from where she was standing. _Bastard_... He had looked up the minute she stepped into the room, and she tried to ignore his piercing stare following her as she walked towards Graham, a reluctant smile on.

"Why wouldn't I?," she wondered, the actual warmth in his grey eyes making her shoulders relax a tiny bit.

"I don't know, pressure?," he suggested.

She mused his option, and nodded when she realised _yes_ , it was a _hell_ of a lot of pressure on her. She had read half of the script and was impressed with how good it was. It was well written, had an amazing plot, a great adventure, the right bit of sass between the main characters, the perfect amount of romance to look amazing but not entirely fluffy and, of course, the brilliant planning. She loved it.

"So, have you met your hopefully future lover?"

_When you think of it like that..._

She shook her head, not exactly trusting what could burst out of her mouth if she tried to speak.

She turned her head to the unfairly handsome man as he got up from his seat - carrying The Prisoner of Azkaban in his hand - and approached them.

"Killian Jones." _Oh, perfect; an accent._ He held out a hand, an infuriating grin on his face. She hesitated for a second before shaking it, the warmth from his hand sending a jolt up her arm. She chose to ignore it.

"Well, _Killian_ here was cast a few weeks ago, but the part for Emily was a tough one to get."

Emma blinked at that. " _Was_?"

Graham blinked back. " _Yes_..." He ten frowned. "What did your agent tell you?"

"That this was a second audition for you to see how it went out with him," she pointed at Killian next to her.

Graham's lips tugged in a sheepish smile. "Well, you might want to give her a raise, because we knew you were the perfect Emily the minute you walked out of the door."

_What. Wait. What._

"Wait, so _I got the part_?" She could hear her voice raising an octave, but she didn't really care.

"You got the part!," Graham exclaimed.

_Oh. My. God. Is this actually happening._

An enormous smile spread across her lips as the news sank in. She was in a movie. In a freaking badass movie. _Don't cry._

"Thank you so much," she told Graham, and he waved it off.

"No problem. Plus, you more than deserved it."

_Wow. I can't believe what's happening._

"Okay, so," Graham called, clapping his hands. "Emma, take a seat, let's repass the script. You guys tell us what you'd like to change to make it slightly easier to you, and we'll see what we can do."

The next two hours were full of speculations, lines passed, words scribbled and scratched and impersonations. She grew to discover that Killian Jones was a massive flirt, Captain Innuendo, making her blush with every suggestive comment that left his mouth. But she also discovered that he was a hell of an actor. Every time he impersonated his character, the whole table fell silent, and Emma most of the times struggled with paying attention to her own.

She could see why they chose the two of them. They really did have chemistry.

 

* * *

 

 "Are you _serious_?," she complained, exasperated.

"I'm sorry, Emma, Emily's under disguise," Tink told her, holding up the positively straining and suffocating corset.

Playing a part in a 19th century themed movie had its ups and downs. She got to gracefully slide across some hall in beautiful, breathtaking gowns. _Literally_ breathtaking. She was sure she wouldn't be able to breathe.

Emily was a mere villager, but she and the infamous pirate Killian played were taken away by another pirate ship. The captain gave them tasks to do in order to spare their lives and one of them was the scene they were filming today: Emma and Killian would infiltrate in a high rank ball and distract the wealthy host to give time for the pirates to make their move.

The gown was beautiful: a dark shade of reddish pink, something close to wine, with long sleeves and a sweetheart neck. The bottom end of the corset marked the start of the skirt, that flowed down her legs to the floor in a graceful yet thick look. The texture of the dress was rough, little patterns made with a careful needle and thread giving it a lift in the mood.

But the _corset_...

"I know I have no choice," she groaned, stepping towards Tink and accepting the article.

She went to change, quickly finding out putting on a corset wasn't easy, mainly with the long, thin silky piece she put before. She stretched her already tired arms as she tried to tie the lace on her back.

"I'll have to tie the lace on the back, just so you know," she heard her stylist's voice from behind the curtain.

With a huff, she left the tiny space, walking to her and turning her back. She felt Tink's hand skilfully tie the corset as her breathing grew thinner. _God, this will_ suck _._

"There. How do you feel?"

"Horrible. Will I need to use this again?," Emma asked, adjusting the staining piece on her body.

Tink smiled sheepishly, nodding her head slowly. Emma couldn't old back the groan.

"Now come, let's put on the gown."

 

* * *

 

She left the room after her make up was done, and she had to actually hold up her skirt to not step on it and fall to the ground, head first.

When she found the set, three sets of eyes focused on her.

"Emma!," Graham exclaimed. "You look great. August!"

He called the writer, who was talking to one of the cameramen in a corner, over. He jogged towards them.

"Yes? You look amazing, by the way, Emma."

She flashed a tight lipped smile, her mind still wandering around how women survived corsets.

"Does she look like the Emily you imagined?," Graham asks, his brow furrowing as he inspected Emma's looks. She blushed under the now four pairs of eyes roaming over her body - outfit, really, but still - and changed the weight from one leg to another.

"Actually, yes. Though Killian's too good looking for what I imagined at first."

_What?_

She lifted her look to Killian, standing several feet from her near the entrance of the ballroom. Her breathing hitched when her eyes reached him.

_He is impossibly more handsome than he normally is._

His hair was slightly more combed - the scruff remaining, though -. His coat was a darker shade of cream, nearly beige, the collar and bases of the sleeves in a dark brown. He was wearing high leather boots, black pants, belt and vest. _Sinfully attractive._

When he caught her gaze, he smirked, probably well aware of what he was doing.

She nearly drifted off too far to hear the writer talking. "This is the scene where you dance - remember the choreography, please - and this is when Emily and previous _capt'n_ there realise the sexual tension between them." He said it with an amusing tone, nearly joking; but _still_.

" _Sexual tension_?," Emma raised both eyebrows.

"You know, they really realise how attracted they are to each other here."

"That I knew, just your choice of words baffled me for a second."

August grinned and ushered her to the 'main door' for the first scene, when they enter the room.

She was told to wait there in that spot, and fidgeted on her dress until she felt an oddly comforting presence stopping next to her.

"You okay, Swan?"

At least he wasn't creeping up behind her. He had to be there. Then why did she jump when she heard his voice?

Maybe it was the genuine worry behind it.

_No. Of course not. Why would he?_

"I'm fine," she replies, finally looking up at his impossibly blue eyes.

He gave her a real - _real_ \- smile, the one that softened his whole face and made something warm spread through her chest.

"Worried you'll suffocate in those clothes?," he raised an eyebrow.

She laughed, happy he was trying and managing to lighten her mood. She regretted a second later, feeling her ribs being squashed by the leathery article. _Ugh_. "Yeah."

"Okay, people, we're ready!," she heard Graham shout, and all the voices increased volume. More people running around, the extras in the center of the ballroom getting in their positions and shooing the last make up artists who tried to fix something.

She felt Killian offering her an arm and she took it, startled at how rather responsive and impulsive the move was, since she made it without hesitation. She was also surprised at how relaxed she felt.

She took a deep breath, getting into the character, the lines and emotions scribbled at the corner of the pages of the scrips flashing through her mind as she impersonated.

"Ready, Emma? Killian? Everyone?" All nodded and the room fell into silence. "Okay! Cameras?"

"Don't suffocate," she heard Killian whisper to her, and she struggled not to laugh. _Dork_.

"And _action_!"

 

* * *

 

The filming went more smoothly than she initially thought. The moves to the dance simply came to her, and she didn't even need to put much effort in making the 'implied hearteyes' August instructed her to do. She just remembered the sweet side of Killian. She remembered how he brought her hot cocoa three times a week, how he put a petal of a rose on the table she usually got her make up on everyday since they'd started, how adorable he looked in his reading glasses, how he opened the door for her every time they found themselves at the same place at the same time, how peaceful he looked when he napped in between long takes during the night.

She nearly fell out of character in the middle of the dance when all of these memories came rushing into her head. She remembered the fondness she saw in his look every time she looked into it. She remembered the same fondness she found in her own eyes in the mirror after she talked to him.

 _No_. It couldn't be.

Did she _like_ Killian Jones?

 

* * *

 

She _liked_ Killian Jones. She _really liked_ Killian Jones.

She somehow saw he liked her too.

That fact kept her awake one night.

Killian Jones _liked_ her. For real.

"Swan?"

She jumped when his voice appeared - well, _he_ appeared - next to her.

"You okay?"

They weren't even working anymore. The filming had just ended for the day, and she had just left her trailer when the fact hit her again. She had stopped on her tracks.

"Uh... Yeah. Just checking everything for the night," she lied.

He hummed, his forehead wrinkled. He was holding a cup of coffee-- no. _Two_ cups. One was for her. He was a hell of a coffee holder. _Oh god. Breathe._

"Well, I got you some hot cocoa," he said, holding the cup out to her with those big blue eyes.

She stared at the cup, too startled to move, when she finally snapped out of it and took it. His shoulders seemed to relax. _Her_ shoulders relaxed. _What's going on._

"Do you know what scene we're filming tomorrow?," she asked him in a weak attempt to make conversation.

He smirked at her, taking a step forward, and she feared the worst. "The kiss, Swan."

 _Oh, crap._ The kiss. She wouldn't survive. She wanted to move to New Zealand. " _Oh_ , yeah."

"Excited?," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, making her insides melt. _Stop it._

"Oh, totally." It was true, but she thankfully managed to make it sound as sarcasm. _Years of experience._

"We could always practice," he suggested, stepping closer to her. She could smell him, that bastard, and he smelled really good.

She raised an eyebrow. _Act unfazed. Bless acting_. "What are you saying, Jones?"

"I wouldn't put up a fight if a beautiful lass such as yourself wished to kiss me. And when I say I wouldn't..." He softly brushed back her hair over her shoulder. "I mean I _really_ wouldn't."

He had such honesty is his gaze, even if it was nearly taken with tease and suggestion.

 _Acting. Acting. Come on._ "Please," she scoffed, taking everything she got to not tremble in anticipation. "You couldn't handle it."

"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," he purred back, leaning in an inch.

_God, his smell is intoxicating._

_I can't go for it._

_I shouldn't go for it._

_I'm going for it._

Her whole mind seemed to explode when she gripped the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled him to her, crashing her lips on his.

It took him a second or two to recover from the startle - she bet he didn't think she would do it. To be fair, neither did she - and kiss her back just as fervently, gently pushing her to the trailer and pinning her there.

She felt as one of his hands went up her arm to the back of her head, softly cradling it, as the other skimmed across her waist to rest on her back, tangling in her hair.

He tasted of fresh mint and rum. Pirate. He smelled of leather and the sea and the usual scent she normally felt whenever he was close enough. The same one that had her with a desperate want to nuzzle his neck and just _breathe in._

She let go of his lapels, her hand travelling down his chest to wrap around his waist from underneath the jacket, the other clinging to his shoulder.

Thankfully, the exit of her trailer was the one closest to the stone wall that divided the space with the next. No one could catch them there, right??

 _Right_ , she thought, as they broke off for air. The space was completely silent, the only noise being the crickets that probably lived in the vines and grass of the nearby field and their rapid breaths. He touched his forehead with hers, her nose brushing his, as she felt his breathing on her cheek.

She wanted more. Could she, though?

"Killian--"

He shushed her, the pressure on her forehead slightly stronger. She could feel he was glued to her chest to knees. Not that she was complaining, though, the warmth radiating from him even under the layers of clothing. "Don't..."

"I was jus--"

"Don't ruin it, Swan."

"I'm not ruining it," she whispers back, her eyes finally opening to see him doing the same.

He pulled back a bit, just enough to have a good look of her face. She could see the fondness and affection in his gaze. She could see he wanted.

And she wanted it.

_It's been a month._

_A month and a half._

Could she do it?

"Do you want this, Emma?" She shivered - which always happened whenever he used her first name, mainly now, husky by the emotion and the kiss.

She hesitated. She wanted it. Did _he_ really want it? He would abandon her. Everyone did. Why would he be any different? "Do you?"

"I really do," he quickly put, his eyelids closing momentarily before opening again.

"I want it." She saw his eyes brighten, but she cut him off before he could say anything. "But I don't want the attention."

"Attention, love?," he tilted his head, lost look in his blue orbs.

"Yeah." She slid her hand from his shoulder to his arm, resting it there. "The media will literally _pounce_ on us if we ever had something. This is supposed to be the movie of the year, you've seen the article."

"Aye, I have," he muttered, his head ducking slightly.

"But I want it," she whispered, making him rest it on her shoulder, his face nuzzling her neck just like she'd always wanted to do with him.

"Any suggestions?," she feels him ask against her skin - making her shiver because it tickled but it also felt good.

"Maybe we could do it," she started, making him lift his head and stare at her eyes in anticipation. "And not tell anyone."

He pursed his lips. "I'd very much enjoy showing affection to you in public."

"Any better ideas?," she shrugged.

He sighed in defeat. "Alright."

She didn't answer him, instead pressing her lips to his in a sweeter kiss than the hungry one they'd just shared.

 

* * *

 

Of course their kiss would look real as hell. Of course they'd put a shit ton of emotion in the looks and lines before and after it.

August and Graham congratulated them in the end, the latter adding it was 'glorious'.

That night, Killian appeared on her doorstep.

"What are you doing here?," she hissed, looking around.

"Don't worry, I look like I'm only giving you back a cellphone that's actually mine now pretend you're relieved because I found the phone you lost earlier because I think one of them followed me," he quickly instructed. She didn't miss a beat, grabbing the device and pretending to feel happy.

"Oh my god, are you serious? Okay, come in, I can't leave you without a coffee in this damn cold weather."

"They'll assume-"

"That I'm a friend that's nice as hell repaying the favour," she smiled sweetly.

He shrugged. "Okay."

And with that, he came in, a hurried Emma slamming the door closed as she sighted the damn parasite, rising from his crouched spot behind a parked car.

As soon as she came back to the living room, she closed all blinds she could find. They weren't that bad at invading someone's privacy, but you could never be too careful.

As soon as she was sure they were out of anyone's sight, she turned to him and hugged him. It wasn't exactly for fondness matters, mostly because of the anger paparazzi erupted on her.

"Don't worry, love," he assured, wrapping her in his embrace and brushing his lips on her forehead.

"Someday, we'll let it out there. But I'm not ready to share you with the world."

His chest rumbled with laughter as she pulled back, guiding him to the couch.

"This will be a nightmare until we do it, love. But, as long as I'm allowed to be with you, I won't complain because I'm quite sure it'll be all worth it."

"You and your sweet words."

"I do have a way with them, don't I?," he grins.

"You're so full of yourself," she complains, smacking him on the chest.

He didn't reply, just reached out and took her hand before she could pull it back. He took it to his lips, brushing them over her knuckles and squeezing it.

Her heart did a backflip and her stomach twisted. She was _definitely_ the one who couldn't handle it.

 

* * *

 

He was at her house two weeks after they finished filming, the rest of it going smoothly yet bumping, the acting becoming easier as they embraced their real feelings but making it all too difficult once Graham shouted 'cut'.

He was lying across the couch, his head on her lap, as she stroked his hair and flicked through different channels on the TV. She didn't know if he was awake or not, but the following press of button definitely woke him up.

She quickly passed across those girly, gossip channels when one of them made her sit up straighter. It was a picture of _her_.

"Killian," she nudged him and he sat up, his eyes also fixed on the screen.

"... _Emily find her Prince Charming? Or should I say, Captain Hook?_ ," the woman spoke with a smile that made Emma cringe at how fake it was. " _Emma Swan was seen having a stroll with her handsome co-star Killian Jones last Saturday. Is it love in the air?_ "

"Oh, _please_. Friends go to walks together," Emma threw at the TV.

" _We would be lying if that hasn't been wished by many of the actress's fans out there..._ "

"What?," she mumbled, her eyebrows knitting together.

"... _and, of course, it wouldn't be a bad choice either: Killian Jones is without a doubt an eye candy, making all girls swoon._ "

Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow as a wave of protectiveness and jealousy washed over her  

" _And, we have to be honest, it would be one of_ the _hottest couples of Hollywood. Isn't that right, Mandy?_ "

The screen morphed into another girl, sitting on a sofa. She started talking, but Emma just turned off the TV.

She slowly lifted her look to Killian's.

"Should we just kick in and enjoy it?," he suggested with a shrug.

"Apparently, we'd be the ' _hottest couple of Hollywood_ '," she joked, sliding closer to him and placing a kiss on his jaw before getting up.

"Where're you going?," he asked, puppy eyes mode on.

"To take my cellphone. Ruby must be stuffing my inbox with texts," she chuckled.

 

* * *

 

They went to the premiere or the movie as a couple.

Pictures on the red carpet was more suffocating than she remembered from her previous parts, but it all seem to lack of matter when she felt his strong and warm hand brush against hers, sliding from her elbow and across her waist and resting on the other side.

Nearly all the weight was taken off her shoulders when he brushed his lips against her forehead as they exited the red carped outside into the building.

The movie turned out to be _amazing_. Emma observed how her acting progressed through it, the more she got to know Killian, the best she performed.

Around the time of the dance, she felt his hand skim to hers and lace their fingers together, a light reassuring kiss following the moment they have a close-up of Emily's face and how in love she seems to be.

Perhaps she really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't want to change Emma's gown at the ball and leave it the same like I did with Killian, but it's the 19th century, not the 16th. Plus, she's not supposed to stick out, she's supposed to blend in. 
> 
> I also just realised its chapter 47 and I'm emotional because I remember how nervous I was to post my first oneshot back in October... The classic 'I was young and naive'.


	48. Bouncy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahey. This flowed out. Good. It's finally adjusting. But I blame Tumblr for one of the silliest prompts I've written.

**Bouncy**

 

To be completely honest, Emma was _ashamed_. They shouldn't have done it. They just _shouldn't_.

It didn't make it any easier or better when Ruby invited her and Killian for coffee at Granny's.

The two of them had been dating for a few months now, and it never failed to amaze Emma how easy and perfect their relationship seemed to be. He understood her like no one else did, immediately turning him the person Emma trusted the most.

His personality certainly helped. He made everything easier for her whenever he was around; his mere presence already put her in a calmer, more rational state of mind. He was a perfect gentleman, loving and with a massively big heart, with a _not subtle_ bit - the ideal amount, precisely - of suggestiveness and innuendos. Emma adored him, just as he seemed to adore her. Killian was like her in many aspects; from being an abandoned orphan to preferring nights in than out.

Sure, his looks _definitely_ made everything about him even better. Dark disheveled hair, a few days old stubble he always trimmed to the exact point of _attractive_ , literally the bluest eyes she'd ever seen and a sharp jaw that never failed to make her feel warm; his lean body always carrying his old leather jacket, or even flannel, if he was feeling specially happy.

Emma remembered how he was closed off to the world when they'd met in freshman year. It had taken her a bit of courage to approach him and start talking. In a few days, it was like they'd been friends for ages. She had to admit that she had a crush on him from the moment he'd first spoken. The accent made her stomach twist, his forever moving eyebrows made her swallow and his piercing gaze made her blush. Which was odd. Emma didn't _blush_.

Here they were, senior year in college, nearly proper adults. Yet this fact didn't stop them from doing _it_.

"So, how was the weekend?," Ruby asked, settling back in the rest of the booth, the mug of coffee clutched between her hands in an attempt to warm them from the icy air outside.

Emma didn't have to glance sideways to know Killian had clenched his jaw. "It was... _Fun_ ," she said, slowly, nibbling on her lower lip.

Ruby frowned for a moment, her lips pursing, then replacing it with a shrug and raised eyebrows.

Emma felt Killian's knee brush hers in a question. She bumped hers back, not exactly knowing the answer he interpreted.

Ruby started every subject they talked about, going from the Super Bowl to how long has it been since one of them had seen a pony in real life.

After about half an hour, they had absolutely _nothing_ to talk about. Emma was sipping her second or third mug of hot cocoa while Killian popped mints in his mouth every now and then. Ruby kept picking up and putting down her cup of coffee, and Emma was sure it was already cold.

She had always known coffee plus Ruby never worked.

When she shifted on her place, a wave of pain hit her calf and she winced.

"Ugh, my legs are so _sore_...," she quietly whined, lifting one of them and massaging the calf with one hand.

Ruby furrowed her brows. "Why?"

 _Uh-oh._ Instead of answering, Emma sipped her cocoa, nervously glancing at Killian as a blush crept to both of their faces. He scratched behind his ear, the move quickly followed by a jaw clench.

" _OH MY GOD_ ," Ruby exclaimed, choking on her cooling drink. "DID YOU GUYS DO THE _FRICKLE FRACKLE_?!"

 _What_. "What?," the couple asked, their voices in unison.

Ruby grabbed a napkin and quickly dried the bits of coffee on the table and her fingers. " _Why_ are your legs sore?," she demanded, voice an octave higher.

Emma looked at Killian, trying to find the words to describe their actual situation. Fortunately, he got her despair and spoke up. "We, uh... We were strolling down the street yesterday and, _well_... We passed by a, uh, by a park."

"A _park_?," Ruby raised an eyebrow, skeptic.

"Yes. And, uh... We sort of got way too into the, how do you say it, trampoline?"

The frown on Ruby's forehead started to soften, replaced by an amused gaze. "You got too into the _trampoline_? The trampoline made for _children_ to jump on?"

"Precisely," he pointed a finger at her, his other hand finding its way into Emma's.

"So you gave me a heart attack because you were embarrassed about the fact that you spent an hour bouncing on the _trampoline_ made for _children_?"

" _Three_ , actually."

"What?"

"Three hours," Emma said, lowering her head to the table with a soft thud.

"You bounced up and down for three hours?," Ruby still sounded disbelieving. "Wait, that sounded wrong," she quickly added. "You spent three hours jumping in a trampoline made for children?"

"Yes. You see, that is _exactly_ why we didn't tell you at first, we knew you would make fun of it." Emma could hear the grin on her voice.

"I'm not making fun of anything, Ems," she said, and Emma lifted her head.

"Yes, you are," Emma furrowed her brow.

"No."

" _Yes_."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you _are_."

"Okay, ladies," Killian interrupted, his arm going around Emma's hunched shoulders. "Let's stop the back and forth. Now I know why we got into it in the first place."

Her head snapped to him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that I now see how adorably childish you can be sometimes."

" _Aha_!," Ruby conquered, victoriously.

"You probably caught it from our dear friend here," he nodded at the brunette.

"W-- _hey_!"

"And _now_ ," he said, his side softly pushing her to slide out of the booth they were sitting at. "Now we have to go."

Emma got up. "Why?"

"Because I am sure that, if we stay, you'll start bickering with Ruby there and our afternoon will be ruined."

"Ruined?," Ruby tilted her head.

"Yes, ruined. I'd like to take you to a bookstore to buy you the book you were drooling over on that website last night and it is physically impossible for you to rationally buy anything in a bad mood." He tugged her to the door, fixing the hat on her head and closing his coat to shield himself from the biting wind. "So _yes_ , we have to go."

Emma herself tilted her head, looking up at his slightly blushed cheeks and tip toed to kiss his nose. She didn't even know _why_ she did it. She just felt the need to do it. She chuckled at the way it wrinkled when her lips touched the tip and tugged him outside, throwing goodbyes over her shoulder at Ruby, who was watching them from the booth.

"You know," Emma said, her arm looped through his as they walked down the street. "We should do it more."

"What, love? The trampoline?"

"No, go out with Ruby. So I can watch you suffer as you create a believable excuse to leave the awkwardness behind."

"How kind of you, Swan," he mused, leaning down and pressing his cold lips to her jaw.

"Seriously, though, we should never step on a trampoline again. Well, not for three hours, at least."

"I'll just keep reminding you if was your idea," he muttered, his arm leaving hers to wrap around her shoulders. She leaned into him, savouring the warmth radiating from his body even with the probably five layers of clothing on him.

"You should've said _no_ , Jones."

"I couldn't, you were using your puppy eyes, Swan."

"You need to learn how to overcome them, because, if we keep on like this, I'll have more leather jackets than I have now. And we _don't_ need that."

"Why doesn't this come to your head when you feel the urge to buy one?"

"Because the urge _blinds_ me," she said dramatically.

"How tragic." She could hear the grin.

"Indeed."

"I love you, you know?"

She hummed in agreement. "You already know my answer."

"What, that you'd rather have an ice cream pot now?"

She chuckled. " _Always_." When he mock-scowled, she halted her steps, coming to stand in front of him and rising on her tip toes, pressing her lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss that made her melt against him. When they pulled apart, she touched her forehead with his. "And that I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously don't even know what happened, but I chuckled while I edited it. Plus, I did think both of them were slightly ooc, but I think that's because I attempted to write a story with ocs with a friend and like, their personalities sort of drilled into my head. Meh.


	49. Treehouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUDE THOSE STILLS MADE ME SHRIEK AND PRODUCE WEIRD ASS DYING PTERODACTYL NOISES WHAT ON EARTH WERE THOSE

**Treehouse**

 

"Hello."

Emma halted her cautious steps at the sound of the voice. She turned around slowly to the sight of a boy, a couple of years older than her. His hands were tucked in his jeans' pockets as he looked at her with a small smile and soft eyes.

Emma licked her lips, straightening her spine. "I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't know this place was someone's."

He shrugged, taking two steps forward and into the sunbeam that entered from the glassless window. "It's not." He had jet black hair, tousled as if he ran his hands through it too much, and really, _really_ blue eyes, hidden behind lenses with a solid black frame. He was a few inches taller than her, but his face wasn't _too_ old. "I found this a few months ago, completely abandoned," he explained, his hand coming to rest on the windowsill.

Emma's shoulders relaxed a slight bit. "Do you know whose it is?"

He shook his head. "That's why I keep coming here. Yes, partly for thinking or just running away from my father, but I also hope to find the owner. If they exist."

Emma tilted her head, but said nothing. Ten wasn't a _great_  age - she constantly ran away from her foster homes for the day to only come back a bit before their curfew. Not that anyone would notice if she went missing -, but she knew a boy his age shouldn't act this... _Adult_.

"You can share it with me," he spoke, interrupting her thoughts. "If you want," he added, his eyes adverting from hers, glancing at his feet, before fixing on them again.

"You would allow a stranger to share a treehouse with you?"

"Why not? You don't seem dangerous," he said, adding a grin. "Plus, I can see you came here to be alone. Probably because of problems at home."

She frowned because _how...?_ "How did you know?"

"Your eyes," the boy stated.

"My _eyes_?," she repeated. Why would her _eyes_ give away anything concerning what she was doing?

"You were abandoned too, weren't you?" _What, how did he--_ "The look in your eyes. I used to have an orphan friend. He had the exact same look. So yeah, I can see you're not happy with your current life."

Emma's shoulders sagged.

"I can be your friend, if you want."

 _What?_ "Why would you want to be friends with me? You don't know me."

"I'm willing to take the risk." He held out his hand. "My name's Killian."

Emma eyed it before shaking it. She wouldn't lie, she liked how his bigger hand felt on hers. "Emma."

"Well, Emma," he said, without letting go of her hand. "You seem slightly hesitant to be my friend. But I do like a challenge."

She couldn't hold back her smile when he grinned at her, his blue eyes brightening.

 

* * *

 

"Killian?"

"Afternoon, Swan."

He was sitting with his legs dangling out from the tiny balcony of the treehouse. He looked over his shoulder at her, and she realised how he had grown. Back when they met, she was ten and he was twelve. Now here she was, fourteen years old, nearly drooling over his way too good looks for a sixteen year-old. His cheeks were less chubby, his sideburns were darker and his body taller - and more muscular, but who was looking?

He was her best friend, though. From all the people that entered her life these four years, he was the only one who stuck with her through everything she'd been through. He was there in the ten times she bounced around the town from tiny foster home to tiny foster home. Thankfully, she never had to leave the town, like she had watched happen so many times to the other kids in the homes. He was there when she broke her arm. He was there when older kids bullied her. He was there for her when she cried, when she was angry and when she was troubled. He was _there_.

She was there for him too. She was there when his father left him and his brother. She was there when Liam went to the Navy. She was there when he had to move to a foster home. She was there when he was mugged one night and nearly broke his ankle.

They were there for each other when no one else was. Emma could easily state that he was the most important person in her life.

The fact that he was the amazing person that understood her like nobody didn't help in her massive crush on him. She didn't want it to happen; it just did. He was too loving and careful and gentle, and funny and witty and smart; it was physically impossible for someone not to feel something for him.

She knew she was too young to be sure of any of this, but she couldn't help but feel miserable when she was away from him.

Luckily, it wasn't often.

Every afternoon, they met at the treehouse. Every weekend, they spent the whole day together. That treehouse was their temple.

They never tried to make it prettier. It was still the old naked and creaky wood house from the day they found it.

She slumped next to him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"Harsh day?"

"You have no idea," she replied.

"What happened?"

"Regina attempted to throw food at me today at lunch like a little kid," she started with a sigh. "But I dodged and it hit Kathryn. Then Kathryn blamed me for what happened and I went to the principal's office. Gold spoke in that damn calm voice he always has and 'let me out with a warning'. I'll just take the next food shot."

He chuckled. "That is indeed harsh." He reached beside him, taking a cup of something. "Here."

She didn't question and just took a sip of whatever it was. _Hot chocolate._ The liquid warmed her as it downed her throat, but another warmth spread across her chest at the kind act. "Thank you."

"No problem," Killian shrugged. She lifted her head from his shoulder, hearing a nervous tone in his voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. It's just...," he paused. "Liam's coming back in two days."

"That's wonderful," Emma said, turning her body to sit cross legged, facing his side.

"Yes, but... What if he's different? What if the Navy's changed him?" His eyes fixed on hers, and she could see the worry in them.

"Killian," she interrupted him, her hand resting on his forearm. "He'll be just the same as when he left. Don't worry."

He clenched his jaw in hesitation, but eventually relaxed as his features softened. "Okay."

She sent him a reassuring smile before starting a new topic.

 

* * *

 

She heard the sobs before she reached the top of the steps. The sound startled her, making her halt her climbing, but her heart raced as she resumed it, faster, wanting nothing more to get to the treehouse and see what was wrong.

She was slightly late, the sun already setting by the time she reached the wooden planks of the floor. Looking around quite desperate, she didn't find the source of the cries. She carefully walked across the small room to the little door that made way to the balcony.

She found him there, leaning against the wall, his hands forcefully clung to his face as his shoulders shook. She felt her heart clench. Why was he crying?

"Killian?," she called softly, nearly a whisper. "What's wrong?"

His sons stopped for a second as he slowly uncovered his face, his swollen reddish eyes and wavering lower lip making her own eyes burn. She couldn't stand watching him cry. It had only happened once, when his father left him.

When his lip clearly trembled, she didn't think before stepping forward and pulling him to her in a soothing hug. She felt him tense for a moment before his own came around her, his embrace warm, as he burrowed his face on the crook of her neck and let the sobs fall out of him.

She still didn't know what got him like this, but she wasn't going to push him. It wasn't often that Killian cried, then this _had_ to be serious. So all she did was hold him, soothingly run her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and try to hold back her own tears. She felt every sob he cried, his chest glued to hers as she did her best to calm him.

She didn't know how long it lasted - ten, maybe twenty minutes -, but he eventually calmed down; though none of them made any moves to leave each other's arms - not that she was complaining. She was never one to hug people, but she felt safe in his arms.

"Liam," she heard him whisper against her neck. "His ship never came back. That's why he was late. That's why he never arrived." She felt his lids close again as he took a deep breath. "He's gone, Emma."

She honestly didn't know what to say. She never got to meet Liam, but, from what Killian had told her, she had always wanted to. She knew Liam was a sort of a role model for Killian. She knew his older brother was basically his idol, this man he had always wanted to become.

And now he was gone.

But that wasn't the worse.

Liam being gone meant Killian was now completely alone. He didn't have hope for his brother to come back. He was now like Emma.

"Killian, I'm..." She stopped, afraid her voice would tremble with the tears she was trying to hold back. "I'm so sorry," she concluded, her arms around his neck tightening.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, now."

"You're going to be strong," she said, surprised at how firm her voice suddenly was. "You're going to be strong for him."

"What if I can't be strong?," he whispered, his voice so quiet she almost didn't get it.

She rubbed his back as she thought of an answer. "I know you can." She made sure to add a tiny smile to the sentence.

A minute or two passed by before he finally pulled back, the sight of his swollen face with red watery eyes still startling her. She tugged him down to sit with her at the edge of the old balcony and let him rest his head on her shoulder.

If they were close before, they were even more now, Emma being the only thing that could keep him calm and rational.

 

* * *

 

"Did you switch your glasses to contacts?"

He looked up from his book, a grin settling on his lips. "I did."

"I don't know what to think," she said, shaking her head and sitting next to him.

"Why, Swan, didn't you say you think my eyes were beautiful?," he teased, fluttering his lids at her, and she laughed.

"When did I even say that?," she questioned, grabbing the book from his hands and studying the cover.

"Every time you look at me," he smirked. "Not out loud though. I can see it in your eyes," he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head jokingly.

"You wish, Jones."

"I most certainly do."

 

* * *

 

" _Away_?," she repeated, her voice cracking.

He clenched his jaw, his lips pursing, as he stopped fidgeting with his shoelaces to grab her hands with his. "I don't want to."

"Then don't," she frowned, her vision blurring as her eyes watered. She _couldn't_ lose him.

"But I _have_ to go."

She didn't like to question his life choices, but she couldn't lose him. "Why?"

"The Navy is the only connection between me and my brother's memory. I have to deepen it."

"But you'll be away. For a long time," she felt the first tear roll down her cheek.

He wiped it with his thumb. "I know, love. But I'll come back."

"You can't be sure of that," she put, shaking her head. He could die. He could _never_ come back.

"You have to trust me."

She shook her head again, the tears spilling from her eyes despite his effort to wipe them away. "No, you can't go."

"Emma," he called softly, nearly a whisper. "I have to."

She didn't sleep that night, the nightmares and anxiety taking over her the minute she lay her head on the pillow.

Killian was gone. And he could just not come back.

 

* * *

 

Her heart clenched when she reached the top of the ladder. Looking around, she let the memories flood into her brain, the smiles and the laughter, the tears and the crying, the soothing and the comfort.

Killian hadn't come back since he went to the Navy. It'd been more than a decade before.

Emma was walking down the street when she spotted it. Their safe haven.

Since she saw the treehouse, his face couldn't leave her eyes. It was like she saw it in every corner, every inch of wall or floor. Simply _everywhere_.

It hurt more than it should; but she couldn't ignore the fact that she had once considered actually _loving_ him. That didn't happen often. Emma didn't do love. Fondness, perhaps. But not _love_.

She remembered how happy she was when she left the system, glad she never had to leave that little town - which was something extremely rare -, glad she got rid of it forever. She felt even happier when she met _him_.

Neal.

The man who had completely destroyed her and turned her into this tough woman, who hid behind her walls afraid to get hurt again.

After he had left her alone in jail, she'd spent months and months recalling their days and nights in the treehouse, her heart always clenching of longing.

For years, he was out of her head. For years, he was just one of the people she left behind in her teenage years. For years, he was just one more memory.

Until now.

Now, as she walked around the small room, studying the walls, the little crooked table in the corner, the oil lamp he had once brought there when she doubted him, the square hole in the ceiling where they used to climb on to get a nice view of the sunset, she remembered _him_ ; she remembered him as the most important person in her life.

Stepping through the doorway to the balcony they sat on every afternoon, she slumped down with her feet dangling from the edge, closing her eyes to the feeling of the light breeze caressing her face.

She heard a light creak behind her in the room, quickly followed by a voice. "Oh. My apologies, I didn't know there was someone here."

She was about to turn around when it sank. _That voice. That accent._

_No... It's not possible. It can't be possible. Can it?_

She finally turned around, eyes wide and mouth hung, and her doubts were answered. Well, a part of them, at least.

There he was, all blue eyes and dark hair, his face now framed by a stubble and his body stronger. But it was _still him_. He was there.

" _Killian_ ," she breathed, getting up from her spot on the floor without tearing her eyes from him. He looked even more handsome, the bastard. _It's been twelve years, hasn't it?_

He frowned, question in his gaze, as he searched her face any familiar traits. Then he found it.

His eyes widened like hers as he took a small step back, as if her mere presence had pushed him. His eyes roamed her head to toes - and she had to admit, she still blushed under his intense gaze, after all this time -, capturing her as if he needed to memorise her form. "Emma," he mumbled, and, not even a second later, he was urging forwards, his arms coming around her.

It startled her for a moment, him just being there being something strong enough to freeze her. But his warm embrace did the opposite: the familiar feeling of safety that always flooded through her whenever he hugged her when they were younger spreading a comfortable warmth across her chest and making her own arms come around his neck. She felt him breathe in her hair, his nose buried in her neck as she took him in: his scent, his body against hers, just him.

She finally found strength to speak, her knees already weakening. "I thought you were dead."

"Why the bloody hell would you think that?," she felt him mumble.

She huffed a weak laugh. "Maybe because you stopped writing or whatever the hell you did before you completely vanished."

He chuckled next to her ear. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"' _Sorry about that_ ', is this the best way to say you feel horrible about it?," she teased, as if nothing had changed since he went away, smacking his back with a light slap.

"Alright. I am terribly sorry for leaving you alone and with no news. I was called for a 'mission' that lasted two years and all we did was stand still in high seas."

"That was pretty useless..."

"It really was."

Emma revelled the feeling of him for a bit longer before she pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes to see a question there. A question I'm glad to answer, she thought as she pounced forward to capture his lips with hers. She could see he was startled, regardless of how he had been expecting it, and smiled against his mouth when he tightened his arms around her and moved it against hers.

Her hands traveled down his neck to his shoulders, then clinging to the lapels of his jacket and pulling him even closer - if it was even possible.

She felt his skimmer up her spine and settle on her back, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Her raced heartbeat was that quick not just because they were kissing; but she had wanted to do that for more than ten years. It's only logical that happens.

By the time they pulled apart, breathless and swooning, both had grins on their faces.

"You know," he said, his voice husky - it certainly did make her belly feel warm. "This treehouse has an awful lot of history lying in it."

She chuckled, her eyes automatically fixing on his lips as his on hers; any kind of witty comeback she had prepared being interrupted by his mouth on hers.

Not that she was complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of liked the beginning and the middle, though i think the ending is meh because I took forever to write it.


	50. Paperman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFTER AN ETERNITY, me is back with new chapter. I've been struggling a lot to write and I had two unfinished chapters written when I suddenly found myself in those internet odysseys inside an official Disney blog. And I found an article of short films and Paperman came in and I was like 'I remember this, but not really', so I rewatched it and, basically, I found a new favourite short film. I am completely in love and nothing anyone says out there will change my opinion.
> 
> Anyway, camphalfbloodprince filled my head with even more domestic CS so I've been thinking about CS for hours and, obviously, it came to my mind while I watched Paperman because I'm lame and a dreamy piece of shit.
> 
> So, yeah, I didn't change much, so here're my first credits in a chapter and they go to Disney and their awesome bunch.

**Paperman**

 

Every morning, Killian woke up, got ready, walked to the nearest train station and waited for about twelve minutes until his train arrived. Today was no different.

There he was, waiting, one hand tucked in his pants' pocket and the other holding a stack of papers close to his chest, the comes and gos of the trains that produced sudden gushes of wind that were strong enough to make _him_ sway slightly being a danger to the sheets that could fly anywhere. They could literally _blind_ someone, and Killian was _not_ very fond of the idea of being the responsible for it.

Apparently, other people had the same problem.

Every morning, he saw a few business men and women in the same situation as him, hugging their stacks and folders and anything that contained more than one sheet of paper to avoid their flee. Every one of them contained them. The same scenery was held that morning.

Except for _one_ person.

He felt the light pressure on his arm before he could see what was doing it. Looking down, he noticed the trembling sheet pressing against his sleeve, and, before he could even move, it slipped and flew away. He only followed it with his eyes.

Suddenly, he saw a flash of gold at the corner of his eyes. It was hair. _Very pretty_ blonde hair _._ He only saw the back of the woman's body - her wavy blonde hair, the lower part of a leather jacket and jeans - as she sprinted towards the sheet, managing to grab it before it flew out of the platform.

It was only then he noticed he was staring. Was it awe? _Probably_.

He adverted his eyes when she turned around, but not soon enough. He saw her face. And it was the definition of _beautiful,_ in his opinion. He didn't even have to put much effort in noticing her emerald eyes or the high cheekbones or the pink lips he became very fond of in a second. She was simply _stunning_.

He kept telling himself not to look at her, and it was harder than he imagined it would be.

Luckily, his struggle didn't last long, when another train flew by and created another gush of wind, making one single paper of those he hugged against his chest slip from his grip.

 _Directly_ onto her face.

 _Oh, gods_. He stepped closer to her in a stride, his heart beating fast and his face heating because _of course_ heavens would have to toy with him and make him look like a careless idiot in front of an attractive woman he didn't know yet. _Of bloody course._

He was quick to stretch out a hand and carefully take the sheet off her face, and was secretly pleased to see it in a frump, her eyes shut closed. _How adorable._ He could see the tiny freckles on her nose and each of her long eyelashes. She slowly opened her eyes, glancing at his face and letting them roam over the paper itself.

Suddenly, she snorted.

Killian frowned, his own eyes immediately searching for the reason, and it wasn't really hard to find it. There was a lipstick stain on the paper. It was fairly light, but there definitely was lipstick on the white surface.

Before he could stop himself, a chuckle left his mouth, and he adverted his eyes to look at her, a grin he could only describe as _foolish_ on his lips.

It quickly faded when she wasn't there. She had _vanished_.

 _No, she did not vanish_ , he told himself when he lifted his eyes and spied her blonde hair entering a train that had stopped by. He found himself incapable of tearing his eyes from her, their quite film-like first meeting sort of amazing him.

His already raced heartbeat quickened when she discreetly peered around her shoulder, curious eyes immediately fixing on him. He couldn't help the tiny smile that settled on his lips. It was still there when the train doors shut closed and when it rode away. He was alone at the platform and didn't bother to hide the smile.

What had just happened?

 

* * *

  

He couldn't keep his eyes off it. The print on his sheet of paper. He couldn't keep her out of his mind, whoever she was. He was positively _staring_ at the sheet on his desk. All because of a woman he barely exchanged looks with.

He still cursed himself for not uttering a word out of his mouth when he had the chance. He was in her company for a _minute_ , for goodness' sake, he could've said _something_.

A loud thud startled him out of his internal reverie. He looked up and saw his large boss staring him down, tiny glasses at the tip of his nose. He signalled at the brand new stack of paper with his head and turned around, sauntering back into his closed office.

Killian's shoulders sagged. He had to keep that woman out of his head.

He allowed his eyes one last glance at the pink mark on the paper and grabbed one from the stack. He stretched out to take a pen, his look lazily travelling to the outside and the windows on the building across the street.

He was sure his heart stopped beating for a moment.

It was _her_.

Same golden hair, same red jacket, same discreet smile on her face as she sat down on a chair near the window. She seemed to be talking to someone. Was it a job interview? _It doesn't matter._

He could _see_ her, just across the street.

It _could_ be just his mind. He was so focused on that woman, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. He wouldn't be at all impressed. He blinked a few times to check. She didn't disappear.

Slightly out of breath, he jumped up and opened the window further, proceeding to wave his arms like a mad man trying to get her attention. At least he didn't scream or something of the likes. What _would_ he scream? He didn't know anything about her - no name, no surname, no nickname.

His own attention was caught by a throat being cleared inside his building. He spied over his shoulder and saw his boss glaring at him right next to his desk. With a huff, the man walked to his side and snapped the window shut. With slumped shoulders, Killian sat back on his chair, eyes still on the blonde woman in the other building.

He waited until his boss got into his office and slammed the door to get up again and open the window. He could see he was getting his coworkers' attention, but, to be honest, he couldn't bring himself to care. He _had_ to make her look at him.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

Sitting down again, he grabbed a sheet of paper from the stack and folded. And again and again and again. He checked for imperfections on his newly made paper plane and smirked in victory. _This could work._

Focusing on the target, he aimed and lightly launched it, begging the winds to help him. But obviously, the plane flew for a few feet and dropped to the ground.

With a grunt, he made a new one.

He launched it; firmly, now.

It hit the stone beside the window.

Another grunt, another plane.

Launch.

Under the window.

New plane. Under it again.

Repeat. Over it.

And again. And again, and again, and again, and again and other countless times. Only one of them managed to enter the window, but she was leaning forward and, for some dumb reason, the plane flew right into the tiny trash can in the corner of the room. He counted the four times he hit his head on the windowsill in frustration, he threw a pencil out of it for the same reason and loosened his tie.

He could see he was being irrational and obsessive, but he felt the _need_ to at least talk to her.

His eyes still fixed on her, Killian reached to the stack and his stomach dropped. He only felt the metal of the holder. Turning around, he double checked with his eyes. _No more paper._

He looked around the room, noticing various people staring at him with worried or confused looks on their faces. Victor pulled his stack closer to his body. Turning his eyes to his desk, he saw it. The glimpse of light pink.

_No..._

Yes, it was the only way, wasn't it?

_No, but I can't..._

_I have to._

Choosing to listen to only one part of his mind, he grabbed the sheet, slowly and carefully producing a new plane. It had to be _perfect_.

Getting up, he leaned over the windowsill, focusing on her blonde hair. Taking a deep breath, he prepared, adjusting the plane in his hand and--

The light breeze that was previously blowing suddenly turned into a familiar gush of strong wind, yanking the plane off his hand. He could feel it slip through his fingers and he couldn't stop the weak ' _no_ ' that left his mouth as he watched it circle its way to the ground. He looked up in a sort of desperate way and saw her getting up, shaking hands with the man that was most probably interviewing her, and walking out the door. _No, no, no, no..._

A throat being cleared again called his attention and he slipped back inside, slumping on his chair with a pout on his lips. He looked up at his boss - who was holding a _new_ stack of paper, what a _bastard_ \- with a frown and didn't even flinch when he dropped the papers. He watched as the too-large man walked back into his office - he needed to stop leaving that place -, adverting his eyes to the stack.

He didn't want to do it. He didn't want to do anything but go home and drop his body on the couch. It was Friday, he could spend the next two days in an unmoving state in front of the television.

He wasn't upset he lost any and every way to speak to that woman. He was upset because he lost the only kind of memory he had of her.

He kept telling himself he was overreacting, that he'd never _spoken_ to her - she could be a bad person. It was possible.

He was an idiot.

Or maybe not.

Maybe he could still catch her.

Maybe he could still talk to her.

Completely ignoring his given task, he grabbed his suit coat and sprinted out the door, making sure to drop a few papers on the way.

He took the lift, not wanting to die before reaching the ground since he was at the 10th floor of a business building. The wait both outside and inside the lift made him anxious.

What would he say to her? 'Hello, my name is Killian and I have an obsession with you because you're beautiful and I feel we have a connection'? Not even in _movies_ that one worked.

He ran out of the building as soon as the double doors opened and looked around. He could see many of his planes scattered on the floor only on that side of the street. He saw her turn around the corner, and, without giving much care to the never stopping cars and trucks that passed in a rush, crossed the street, nearly getting hit more than once, luckily reaching the other side unharmed.

He ran to the corner of the street and looked down the end of it. He didn't see her. _Anywhere_. How did she do that? With a tired sigh, he turned around, going back to the spot he crossed the street. Looking up, he noticed a mailbox. _On_ the mailbox, he noticed...

The pink lipstick.

However, instead of bringing him relief, he could see how foolish it all was. He was running after a woman he didn't know! _How bloody ridiculous!_

With a grunt, he roughly grabbed the plane and launched it as far as he could. He just wanted to get away from any kinds of reminders of how stupid he had been for the past hour.

He was no doubt fired after his barging out, so there was no point going back into the building. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he stomped down the street adrift, head ducked in self-shame and disappointment. _Murphy's Law... Fool._

Not even five minutes had passed when he felt a touch on his lower back. Frowning, he turned his head around, and suddenly noticed the plane. _The_ _Plane_ , with capital P, because it was _The_ paper plane. And it was _floating_. Deliberately. _Who needs the laws of physics, right?_

It was pushing - _annoying_ \- him, so he grabbed it again and threw it far away. Not five seconds later, the nudging came back, but it felt... Stronger. Fully turning around, he noticed more than a dozen of his planes nudging him backwards, making him stumble and sway; but, at the same time as they pushed him, they also held him back. It was like they just wanted to _guide_ him.

But he wasn't in the mood.

He literally slapped his way free of the nudging, resuming his stomping, but he suddenly found himself completely _enveloped_ by dozens and dozens of the paper planes. He could feel every sharp end pushing and nudging and pinching his arms and legs and torso, all in one direction. He noticed one particular whoosh of white - and a spot of pink - fly next to him and off to somewhere Killian was too exhausted to be interested in.

He kept fighting back - in a weaker way, this time, fully aware of how useless his efforts were -, and saw it was _absolutely_ no use when he found himself inside a train. He didn't know how he got there, but slumped down on a seat. One or two times he tried to free himself from the paper planes, but they always managed to trap him again - he scared a little lad away with it. _Great_ -. he eventually reached his destination, and Killian was nudged out of the train. It was his platform. _Their_ platform.

Not a second later after he stepped out of the carriage, he looked up and saw her. It was _her_. She was looking down, studying something in her hands, but it was _definitely_ her.

He couldn't believe it, and was fairly confused at what was happening and how she had gotten there.

A quick glance at the object she was holding clarified it. It was her plane. He could see the pink stain contrasting with the bright white of the paper under the sunlight. She looked up and he could see the smile on her face.

She was so beautiful.

Honestly, she could pass as a siren; he would totally understand.

With a last tiny nudge, he stepped forward, and he saw her shake the plane in her hands, as if encouraging it to move again. It didn't; it lay numb and unmoving.

It was a relief when he leaped forward in an attempt to free himself from the planes and, this time, managing it. Shaking the dust off his hands and pants, he stepped towards her again, close enough so he could see the hazel specs in the green of her eyes.

Swallowing, he opened his mouth, hoping that something decent would come out of it.

"Hello."

Yes, that was a nice start. Wasn't it?

"Hi," she replied. _She replied. Her voice is as beautiful as the rest of her._

"I'm... Killian. Jones," he spoke slowly, not trusting his own mouth and calculating every word so he would toss a bloody innuendo at her and watch her turn around and leave with a disgusted face. He held out a hand in the small space between them.

"Emma." She shook it, and he very much enjoyed the way her hand felt small and warm on his.

"Swan?," he guessed jokingly, and saw her smile falter and her eyes widen.

"How did you know?!" _Know what? Oh, it's her real name?!_

"Your... Pendant, it has a swan in it. Just a... Wild guess," he frowned, scratching behind his ear.

 _Let go,_ he suddenly heard his own mind say.

_What?_

Then he realised he was still holding her hand. _Good heavens..._ He let it go at the same time as she did.

Killian licked his lips, finding them suddenly dry after their quick exchange of contact. He was also being extremely ridiculous. "What happened?," he asked, trying his best to look into her eyes like a normal person would in a conversation.

"I honestly don't know," she said, the same discreet smile that made him become interested enough in her tugging at her lips. "We could try to discuss it over coffee?"

Was she asking him out? Is she actually?! "I thought I was the one supposed to ask you out."

"Should've guessed, given your effort to get here in the first place. _Paper planes._ Honestly, what are you, twelve?" He could hear the amusement in her voice and he liked it more than he would like to admit.

"Ten, actually. But thank you," he quickly replied, the previous smile replaced by his usual smirk. _Welcome back, wit._

Her laugh was nearly angelic. "Okay, where do you wanna go, then?"

"I'll surprise you, now, then," he said, stepping back and tilting his head.

"You could also be a murderer," she put, challenging.

"And yet you were the one to ask me out," he raised an eyebrow, smirk broadening.

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine."

(He ended up taking her to Granny's.)

(He also noticed the knowing grin Ruby sent his way as she walked away to get their orders.)

(He wasn't bothered.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love narrating stuff, because I just turned six minutes into three thousand words.
> 
> Oh, and I apologise if it's a bit ooc, I got too excited and when I saw it, I was too deep in to change anything.


	51. Be my boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things I like the most about CS modern AUs is that, since it's an AU and there's no Pinocchio to persuade Neal to leave Emma, I can turn him into the greatest asshole in the existence. Which really contradicts my vision of him on the show, since I love (loved fml) him a lot. Well. Unless I think about any words he said to Emma in NY. That was just his AU adhole showing.

**Be my boyfriend**

 

" _What_? Why?"

She was putting all her effort in not looking over his shoulder. "Killian, please, just _pretend_."

"Why? What is happening?"

She licked her lips, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't trigger him. "A sort of urgent thing."

She allowed one teeny tiny glance. There he was, all smiley and oblivious to her, a woman she didn't know in his arm. To be honest, she would be happy for him; if he hadn't abandoned her and left her in jail. _Dick move._

Killian's frown deepened, the arm he was resting on the counter of the bar fidgeting with the glass he was holding. She was facing him, her emotions too clear on her face to try to even hide it. It was obvious he could see she was distraught. "What's wrong?," he asked in a quiet voice, making sure that only she heard it over the buzz of chatter of the bar.

She clenched her jaw, but answered it anyway. He could read her. "Neal."

" _Neal_?," he exclaimed, doing his best to keep his voice down. "He's here?" At least he knew best than to turn around.

She nodded. "He's brought a girl. I'm not sure why, but I just know I pity her."

He chuckled, despite her current state. "I've been friends with you for long enough to know when you truly pity someone, Swan. And right now, you're not."

_Damn_ , he was right. She felt this weird tugging at her stomach at the sight of him and the girl, and she couldn't say if it was jealousy or disgust. He knew she'd be there; it was August's freaking birthday.

At least Mary Margaret and David wouldn't be here. David would certainly punch Neal, and Mary Margaret would try to stop him from doing it - weakly, because Emma had heard her call her ex boyfriend names she didn't know Mary Margaret could utter. Dark times.

"If he sees you, love, signal or something," he suggested, and she frowned.

"Why, what are you gonna do?"

She was frankly scared when he didn't answer her, instead flashing her a smirk before he sipped his glass of rum.

To be fair, pretending to be his girlfriend for a few minutes would have its perks. For a start, he was hot. _Really_ hot. No one could possibly deny that. Second, she would have a perfectly suitable excuse to stare at his face - something she unconsciously did since they had met and was frequently caught in the act.

He had a pretty face.

After a quick glance at his bobbing Adam's apple - _damn it_ -, she looked over his shoulder one more time. As if he felt her eyes on him, Neal frowned and looked around before letting his eyes fall on her. She adverted hers just in time.

"Okay, he spotted me. I'm honestly scared of the smirk on your face."

"I thought you said I always wear a smirk," he raised an eyebrow, smirk widening.

Her own smile was inevitable. "Yeah, but that one's oddly creepy."

Both eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Creepy? That's just rude, Swan."

She opened her mouth to reply, but her heart nearly thumped out of her chest when he leaned - pounced - forward, capturing her lips with his own. Her first thought was about the surprising softness of his lips, and how it contrasted to the roughness of his stubble that scratched her chin. Her second thought was about how he tasted of rum and chocolate - which was probably because of the massive bar they shared on the way to the bar earlier - and how he smelled of leather, the ocean and the same fresh scent she smelled every time she got close enough to him. Her third thought was that she was _kissing_ him. She was kissing _Killian Jones._ Actually, _he_ was kissing her. They were kissing and Emma didn't feel bad about it.

It was the opposite of the time Ruby had dared her to kiss August a few years prior. It had felt weird and like something was missing. Now, she felt like it was _right_.

Which was definitely odd, since they've known each other for, what, four years? After tons and tons of innuendos and suggestions and wiggled eyebrows and endless flirting, she had never even considered how it would be.

Well... She might have. But just because he was Killian Jones. And any woman who said they hadn't imagined what it would be like would probably be lying. He was attractive and had a big heart. _He is a dream._

He was also one of her best friends.

_Okay, I should've thought more about this. Maybe I should've tried talking to Neal?_

She didn't even realise the kiss hadn't ended yet until she felt him pulling back for air. God, she was so focused on her own feelings she didn't even pay attention to the kiss itself. It was probably a one time thing; she should be cherishing the opportunity of kissing Killian Jones. She kept thinking of his full name. She needed help, too.

Emma could feel his hand on the small of her back, the touch sending shivers up her spine. She hadn't noticed her own hand travelling up his chest and settling on the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer to her, or her other hand, holding on the arm he rested on the counter.

_Well, that happened._

He touched his forehead to hers, and she could feel his breathing on her face, quickened and matching hers.

It felt like an eternity when she finally managed to utter words from her mouth, her face hot and her legs turning into jello. "Well, that was dramatic."

He laughed, slightly breathless, and pulled away, his arm still around her waist. "A simple thank you would do. Is he still _spying_?," he whispered to her.

She allowed a small grin to come to her face as she discreetly enough peered over his shoulder. "He's definitely staring. I can't really decipher the look on his face."

"Do you think I could?," he asked.

"What, decipher it? I don't know."

"I want to try."

"You sound like a little kid."

"I _am_ a little kid."

She ignored the last comment. "And you can't just turn around and stare back at him."

"I have a plan." And with that, he kissed her forehead - nope, she did _not_ enjoy that much more than she should. _God damn it_ \- and walked away. Despite his secretive mood, she followed him through the crowd with her eyes and saw him entering the bar's restroom. _How clever,_ she thought, sarcastically.

"Um, _Emma_?"

_Ugh, not now_. "Hi, Ruby."

Her friend came from behind her and posted herself in front of her. She had her eyes wide open, flashing with excitement and surprise, and her mouth hanging slightly ajar. "Care to explain?," the brunette nearly shrieked.

"Neal's here," Emma shrugged, trying to appear as casual and nonchalant as possible. Not that it would work; Ruby always saw right through her.

"Neal's what?" The smile on her face vanished, replaced by a dark look.

"He's here. And he would eventually spot me, as he obviously did."

"And the make out session--"

"It _wasn't_ a make out session."

"--was because your ex was staring at you?," Ruby raised an eyebrow, her previous excitement returning.

"Still is. And he's sauntering over. Oh, and he left his new victim behind," Emma informed, quickly spying over her friend's shoulder and adverting her look, since he was confidently striding towards them.

"Should I punch him?," Ruby asked, and Emma was amused to see sincerity in her eyes. She knew her long enough to know the ' _should_ ' actually meant ' _can_ '.

"If anyone's doing it, it's gonna be me," Emma reassured, and the smile came back to the red lipped's face.

"Emma." _And so it begins._

"Neal," she greeted rather coldly, and she could see how hard Ruby was concentrating in not punching him.

"Can we talk for a bit? _Alone_?"

Ruby raised her eyebrows, skeptically glaring at him, and then at Emma. Tiredly, the blonde nodded to her friend and the latter walked away, looking over her shoulder.

"What do you want?"

"Why are you being so cold?," he asked, a little smirk graving a corner of his mouth.

_Is he even serious?!_ "What do you want, Neal?," she asked again, pointedly.

"I want to catch up."

"Or you just want to know when I got a boyfriend," she suggested, pleased to see his jaw clenching at the mention of Killian. "Typical.

"Fine. I want to know when and why my ex girlfriend got a replacement for me," he blurted simply, and a wave of disgust washed over her.

"A _replacement_?," she spat, incredulity all over her face. He nodded. "Are you _kidding_ me? I didn't get a replacement, I got a boyfriend. One who's probably more loyal than you," she muttered the last part.

"So you're over me?" Was that amusement in his eyes?

"I got over you the minute you left me in jail, Neal," she lied, firmly, enunciating the last part as if teaching a child how to talk. _It no doubt feels like it..._

She chose to let out the part she had also been pregnant.

He narrowed his brown eyes, tilting his head. "How long?"

She frowned. _He's not making any sense today. Or ever._ "How long what?"

"How long have you two been going out? Who is he? What's his name? Where did he come from?" She blinked, more surprised of his tiny outburst than the actual questions he was showering at her. "Do you know _any_ of these answers or did you just pick a stranger at a bar and begged him to be your pretend-boyfriend?"

_What. a bastard._ Even though a small part of it was true. "Yes, as a matter of fact. His name? Killian. You would've met him if you stayed." The amount of confidence in her own voice startled her.

"How long have you been together?"

"Why do you ask, mate?"

Her knight in shining armour. Well... Leather.

Neal's angry eyes fixed on Killian, who suddenly materialised beside her. She could feel his hand on the small of her back again, and the warm pressure was a comforting weight.

"Why would she lie about any of it?," he went on, tilting his head. She could see the anger mixing with the challenge in Neal's eyes and it pleased her to see his internal conflict.

He suddenly cleared it, raising his eyebrows at the couple. "How long then?"

"Five weeks."

Was that an unison? _Wow, that is a shit ton of luck._

Neal blinked, confused and startled. Emma fought the urge to scream a childish ' _ha_ ' at his face. However, he didn't give up easy. She could see the challenge fully set in him.

"Okay," he paused for a moment. " _How_ did it happen?"

"I don't owe you anything, Neal," Emma interrupted him, fully aware of the questionnaire/interrogation that would follow if she didn't cut it short. "So if you could just turn around and return to your future disappointment, we'd be thankful." She didn't even try to throw a sarcastic smile at him.

With a huff and an eye roll - _what a drama queen_ -, he stomped back to his date, who he proceeded to completely ignore as he mulled over their previous conversation.

Emma didn't even flinch when Killian enveloped her with his arms. Seriously, he was _impossibly_ warm. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she hugged him close, his scent calming her as she breathed him in. She could stay there forever...

"He definitely looked jealous."

His simple statement spoken into her hair made her laugh, which was a clear relief for the both of them. He appeared to have that urge to joke his way until peace. It worked, mostly.

But then he pulled back. She looked up to his eyes and found worry in them. "You okay?"

She nodded firmly, because, surprisingly enough, she was. Having any kind of support in this kind of situation always made it better. And he was a hell of a support.

"We need to take Ruby before she stomps there and strangles him," he frowned, searching her eyes, and she noticed the still considerable concern in them.

Killian had arrived inside her tiny circle of friends around the end of the trauma phrase she went through after jail and giving her son for adoption. He got there in time to see her falling apart and suddenly pulling herself together. It had took her about a year, but she managed to not cry at night at the thought of what she would be doing if she hadn't given her baby up or if Neal was still there. She had moved on from mulling and mourning her relationship and started to live in the present. She became a nearly normal person in less than a couple of years.

He had once randomly told her he was proud of her. After a - long - while, she could finally see he had been talking about moving on.

And that sure as hell made her look at him differently.

Indeed, when they got there, Ruby was downright throwing daggers at Neal with her eyes. Seriously, if looks could kill, Neal would be an insignificant puddle of nothing on the floor. She was quite fond of the idea.

"Evening, Ruby," Killian greeted, his arm still around Emma's waist due Neal's compulsive staring - though she liked to think it was just not.

"Can I punch him now?," the brunette asked, eyes flaring and unmoving, as she picked on her nails.

"Killian took care of it."

Finally, Ruby's eyes fixed on them. "How? Throwing as many British accented curses you could think of at him?"

Killian fake smiled at her, annoyed at her mocking.

" _I_ metaphorically kicked his ass by pointing out I didn't owe him anything," Emma added, shrugging, unconsciously shifting on her feet so she could lean a bit more into Killian.

"I was your knight in shining armour, love," he interceded, his arm around her waist tightening a slight bit.

"I pretty much handled everything after you showed up." She was changing her mind about him 'saving' her.

Killian turned to their brunette friend, who was silently sipping her beer. "He was scared off by the impressive amount of evidence that our relationship was a real thing. Fate showed to be kind and let Swan and I think of the same number of ' _weeks we have been dating_ '. That and, of course, my dashing looks," he smirked at that last one, gesturing to his own face.

Not that he was wrong, but what a cocky bastard. "Did you just quote _Pinocchio_?"

"Why do you sound so judgemental?," Ruby raised an eyebrow, amused, as she watched their bickering. " _You_ detected it."

Emma glared as Killian smugly grinned down at her.

 

* * *

 

"Hi, Emma!"

"Oh. Hi, Elsa," she greeted, accepting her friend's hug reluctantly. She had never been a hugging kind of person.

"I hear you and Killian are together! When did it happen?," the blue eyed pulled back, settling on the stool next to her. She wasn't exactly being quiet about it. Luckily Leroy wasn't tucked in one of the booths.

_But Granny is right on the other side of that door._

Damn, she should've _definitely_ thought better about it. At least five people had asked her for the details of her new 'relationship' in the last two days since the party. It was a small town, and news spread fast, but five people in less than two days was pushing the term 'fast'.

She never knew if she carried on with the lie - she heard Neal was staying in Storybrooke for an undetermined period of time. It didn't really help her - or if she broke it all and told whoever asked that it wasn't true. So she normally just made up an excuse to not answer at all.

She had _nothing_ now, ten o'clock in the morning sitting at Granny's. She was having a late breakfast because she decided to sleep in after a late night patrol. David was at home taking care of his and Mary Margaret's newborn and she was alone at the station. _Just like old times_ , she though, recalling the time before she hired David and after Graham's death.

No excuse at all.

She was about to blurt something she was not sure of out when she felt a slight vibration on her jacket's picket. _Oh my god, that is a_ shit ton _of luck._

_Well, maybe not._ She looked at the caller ID and saw Killian's name next to a tiny picture of him - it was a sunset on the docks and he had been staring at the ocean for ages. She had to take a shot of it and the silhouette of his profile was more attractive than it possibly should be.

Elsa gasped when she noticed the K on the ID - there was honestly no one else with a K for a first name except for Kathryn Midas, and Emma had literally spoken three times to her since she got into town. _A long time ago, for the record._ "It's him!" She was too excited for her own good.

Emma quickly glanced at her friend - the clear expression of ' _what is wrong with you_ ' going unnoticed by her. Apparently, one of the few traits Elsa and her sister Anna shared was showing - before touching her finger on the screen and answering.

"Morning, Jones."

" _Swan, people have asked me about how and when did 'we' happen and I don't know what to answer them,_ " Killian's distressed voice sounded on the other side.

She didn't even try to hold back the chuckle. "Is it critical?"

" _Very_."

"Really?"

" _Positive_."

She paused. "Who was the last one?," she then asked as she swiped a finger on the whipped cream of her freshly arrived mug of hot cocoa and swiftly licking it.

"Er, Archie, about ten minutes ago."

Emma was fully aware of Elsa wired to her conversation, but went on anyway. "There is an up and down for both sides. I mean, he's still in town, and for an unknown period. But maybe it's too much. To handle."

" _Is it too much to you?_ ," he asked, his voice quiet and oddly small.

She didn't notice her fingers tightening on the phone.  _Not at all_. "I don't know."

He was silent for a brief moment, when he finally sighed. " _I have absolutely no problem in pretending I'm your significant other, love._ " She could almost see the smirk she heard in his voice. Fact that obviously made her smile after a second.

"Well, if we're doing it for that worm, then it's a reason, right?"

" _Right_ ," he replied lowly.

"Okay, then. See you later."

She barely registered the slow ' _goodbye, love_ ' before she hung up. Practically tossing the phone on her pocket, she grabbed the mug from the counter and took a large sip from it. She had to calm her frantic heartbeat before she entered any kind of conversation.

"Sorry about that," she apologised, a sheepish smile on her lips. "What were you saying?"

Elsa just grinned at he, as if she knew a secret no one else did. "Nevermind. That's a hell of a picture of him you have there."

"Oh, yeah. Lucky shot, though."

Elsa hummed. "Anyway," she spoke, grabbing the to go coffees Emma hadn't even realised a waitress had brought over, being so focused on her own little world and her talk with Killian, and getting up. "Got what I came here for. And a bit more. See you around, Emma!" And with that, she was gone.

Emma was confused, but a tiny part of her mind kept shouting she really wasn't.

 

* * *

 

_Swan, would you like to go to the diner with me tonight?_

_**For Neal? Is he gonna be there?** _

_I honestly don't know. But gossip is all this town has, so we better make them happen._

_**That's actually not a bad idea.** _

_Wonderful. I'll pick you up at seven._

_**You're picking me up to go to the DINER?** _

_**You know, I don't think couples even do that here.** _

_What a shame._

_I'll pick you up at seven._

Emma couldn't help but grin at the screen.

 

* * *

 

"Do you like _sappy_?," he asked, making her laugh.

"Is that your one word description for PDA?," she asked, because it was _definitely_ hers.

"Aye, it is." He added one finger to the ones already lifted. He was literally counting things he would and would not do.

"I didn't say I like it," she warned him.

He just shrugged. "I could sense you do," he smirked again.

He was right. Not that she would let it show. _Screw it, he'll see right through it._

"Alright, so, we have sappy, yes; sticky, no; lovesick puppy, yes, but tone it town; kisses, come with warning. Is that it?"

"Don't forget, no funny business," he pointed at him with her own finger as they turned around the corner to Main Street.

He leaned in the slight bit as they walked. "I wouldn't dream of it." No, she didn't shiver when she felt his hot breath near her cheek in the chilly air of the night. Why would she, right?

_Oh, please._

They approached the white fence, and Killian slowed his steps.

"What's wrong?," she asked with a frown.

He was smirking the creepy smirk again, oh god. "What will the warning be?"

"For the kiss? I don't know, _carrots_?"

"Is that really your best, love?," he inquired, skeptical.

"What do you suggest, then?," she asked, stopping on her tracks. Better have it sorted out earlier than later.

"What about Emma?"

"What, _my name_? How many times _are_ you going to kiss me?" She meant it as a joke, but it didn't stop the wistful feeling that washed over her.

"Maybe I chose it because I rarely call you that?," he suggested, stepping forward once to post himself at her side, offering her an arm without taking his hand off his pocket. She eyed it before threading her own in the crook of his elbow. It felt _nice_ , to feel the leather of his jacket under her palms like she had honestly thought of doing many times before.

She was impressed at how _easy_ it was. She had supposed it would be awkward and weird since he was her best friend, but she was glad to find the jokes and the innuendos and their old dynamic was still there. All they had to do was just spice things up a bit sometimes.

Of course, it would be their first outing as a ' _couple_ ', and she felt anxious. Would they manage to make it believable? Would one of them get tired too soon?

She was starting to think of it as a real relationship. She was making all the question one made when entering any kind of relationship with someone. Was it going to last long enough? Would the news spread fast? Would it be easy once they were under everyone's eyes?

_Well, there's only one way to find out._

Resuming their previous pace, they followed the little pavement path to the diner's door and went up the little steps. Killian made sure to open the door for her ("Always a gentleman, Swan." _Wink_.) before coming in himself.

Emma tried not to pay attention to how all the six people at two tables stopped their conversations to proceeded to stare at them as they sat on a booth. The diner was moderately full: not too full to suffocate all of those inside, not too empty to have one second of total silence.

Killian let her slide in one of the seats before he slid in the side opposite to her.

"Good evening, Sheriff, Killian. What can I get you two?"

"I'll have a cheeseburger," Killian asked, a polite smile on his face as the waitress noted it. She looked at Emma, expectantly.

"Oh, um, I'll have... A burger as well."

When the waitress left with their orders, she turned her look to Killian. He was quick to speak first.

"Not creative enough to pick your own dish tonight, Swan?"

She noticed the top of Leroy's brown hat on the booth behind him. _Someone's eavesdropping_...

"That's what you're here for. You're my food picker."

"But I thought we were going out!," he joked, his voice overly panicked.

She chuckled, leaning back on the booth. She spied his lopsided grin before turning her head to look around the diner. She pretended not to notice the two heads that quickly looked down from their previous spot (staring at them).

Her thoughts drifted to Mary Margaret. She didn't know any of this. Or maybe she did, but not from Emma. Should she let her friend believe it or should she just blurt out the truth and the reason behind it.

Less than ten minutes of comfortable silence occasionally interrupted by light talks later, another waitress came with their orders. It was Tink.

"Oh, hi, Emma! Did you go to August's party? I didn't see you there. Evening, Killian. I thought I saw you there, but it might have been August himself. Were you wearing a black shirt or a dark red one?"

She was babbling. "Er, none, I was wearing a jacket."

Tink froze her motions of putting their plates and glasses down on the table. "Oh." She then resumed them. "I guess it was someone else, then. Hm. Anyway--" She suddenly gasped. "Is this a date?!"

Emma and Killian exchanged glances. Was it? Or was it just a casual dinner every couple has at least once a week?

No new data, just spread the word.

"Just a casual dinner," she answered, motioning to their casual clothes and casual positions. Well, that just made it look too casual. "Both weren't really in the mood for something fancy tonight." _Okay, better._ The approving touch Killian's feet made with Emma's confirmed that.

Tink hummed, a contained grin on her lips. "Well, I hope you two can stand each other." And with that only, she got back to the kitchen - not without stealing a look over her shoulder.

It was only when she looked down she realised how hungry she was. So, obviously, she dug in.

_Whoopsie for the barbecue breath, right?_

After they were both finished with their burgers, Emma got a text from Mary Margaret asking if they could meet for breakfast the next day.

"Mary Margaret wants to meet me for breakfast tomorrow," she informed him.

"Do you think she knows already?," he asked quietly, propping his elbows on the tabletop.

"I literally have no clue. She would normally say it. But, with the newborn, she's become sort of explosive with the 8 hours of sleep a week and breastfeeding and all. She might be grumpy."

"I would suggest you to go, love. Then you could think about wether to tell her or not."

She leaned in, resting her own elbows on the table right in front of him. "It will be uncomfortable as hell."

"Your discomfort is a cross in willing to bear," he said lowly, a wide smirk on his face as his eyes took in hers. Emma could never get tired of gazing into his, the deep blue that didn't seem to be finite hypnotising her anytime she looked at his cerulean orbs.

She didn't know if she ignored or if she noticed his eye fix on the lower part of her face before going back to her eyes.

_God damn it,_ he was a hell of an actor.

_Signal. Signal._ They didn't have a signal for when _she_ would be kissing him. Damn it, she was done with making plans about anything.

Thankfully, her distress didn't last too long. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes with a slight frown on his brow. "I forgot the signal."

She chuckled, her hand - automatically, mind you - coming to rest lightly on his jaw, pulling him to her with minimal effort. When their lips touched, she was glad she could finally pay attention to the kiss itself.

His lips were still soft, his scent slightly different from the other night - she smelled soap now too -, his lips tasting of the burgers they both devoured. She couldn't say she wasn't enjoying it.

It was definitely a featherlight kiss, a brush of their lips against each other's, everything about it soft and light as _hell_. It was the kind of kiss that made her think of lazy afternoons splayed on the couch, complaining about the kitchen being too far. It made her think of forehead kisses and jaw kisses and cheek nuzzling. It made her think of comfort and a goddamn fireplace.

Of course, that all squished into seven - she counted - seconds of contact.

Still, she wasn't complaining.

She heard the bell over the door ring three times - once slowly, the other two a few seconds apart - but didn't care enough to actually stop whatever they were doing to check.

When they broke apart for the sake of being in a public place, Emma kept her forehead pressed against his, her hand still grazing his jaw.

She hadn't realised one of his hands making small motions on _her_ hand in the table, which made her - unconsciously - lean it into his, enjoying the warmth and the freaking ease that was _still there._

_Maybe the ease is there for some damn reason, genius._

Emma sighed, finally pulling away after literally _petting_ his face, and glanced up to take in his features. His eyes were hooded, something that had always - _always_ \- made her warm and fidgety, his lips were slightly reddened and his cheeks and ears were pinkish. She was sure she wasn't any different.

_Why?_

She narrowed her eyes at him. "This is too easy."

"Sorry?"

"This. It's too easy. Why?," she wondered, shoulders sagging in thought.

He was silent for what seemed like an eternity - thirty seconds - before he replied. "I don't know. Maybe because..."

"What?," she inquired.

He rubbed one of his eyes with three fingers. "Emma... There's only one reason I agreed to do this. I care too much about you."

"Well, you should, it's what people usually _do_ after they've known and befriended each other for years."

"No, Emma." _Whoop, signal._ Was he even aware of that? "I care way more than you think."

"Why is it such a big deal?," she frowned, her back asking her to rest on the booth, but she wanted to keep that talk private.

"Why do you think I was so angry when Neal showed up, love? Why do you think I agreed in helping you by pretending we are in a relationship? Why did I cherish the fact that you actually accept my invite to come here today?"

Was he saying...? _Nah._ No _. No, right?_

"What I'm saying... I care too much about you to leave your heart broken. And, not that deep down, I hope I'm the reason it's fixed."

Yes, he was actually saying that. She checked. _Twice_.

_What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?_

_Kiss it off._

And so she did. She leaned forward, firmly pressing her lips to his - careful to not let it become something near heated; thankfully their booth was the last one, the nearest from the back wall - and sighed when his moved slightly against hers. She rested her hand on his forearm, squeezing it lightly, hoping to pass her message right.

When they broke off, she didn't look at him. She just kept her eyes closed, pushing his forehead more firmly with hers as if to prove a point.

He confessed. Should _she_?

He brushed his lips against hers again.

_Screw it_. She should.

"You are," she whispered, more assure to herself than to him. It was like a weight has been taken off her shoulders. Who knew vocal confessions worked better for your consciousness than the internal ones, right?

They definitely brought new hot boyfriends with golden hearts into your life. At least it did to her.

(Again, she wasn't _near_ complaining.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally the longest chapter ever written in the history of an-internet-friend. 
> 
>  I apologise if it's a bit confusing but I literally wrote this half asleep. As in 'wow it's 4 am' 'wait, when did two hours pass why does it say 6'
> 
> Also, people don't believe me when I tell them I'm bilingual 
> 
> huh


	52. Stress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT THE HELL ARE A&E THINKING, SHOWING US THAT PROMO A WEEK BEFORE THE DAMN SHOW COMES BACK.
> 
> Seriously, though, I found this prompt on Tumblr and I found it too cute to not do it.

**Stress**

 

"You have to relax, Swan."

"I can't _relax_ , Jones, the finals are in _two weeks_ and I'm still trying to _understand_ stuff," she complained, snapping the massive book she was holding closed.

They were in his room while Victor had a night out with Ruby. Which would probably lead to _bedroom activities_. In Emma's room. She had three piles of books around her on the floor as he sat on the bed watching her completely freak out.

"If you tried studying relaxed, things would probably fixate better in that head of yours," he advised, making her turn her head and glare at him. He just shrugged.

"Not helping," she muttered, going back to read the same three gigantic sentences she had been reading over and over again for quite some time.

"You also need to take a break," he continued, getting up from the bed and offering his hand. She glared once more before taking it and letting him hoist her up. As usual, she ignored the jolt that ran up her arms to her spine at the contact. _Too close._ "Now," he continued, putting his hands on her shoulders as he ushered her to his desk, sitting her on the chair and opening his laptop. "Rewatch _The Fires Of Pompeii_ because I know you still want to."

"But it will dis--"

He shushed her, one finger raised, and then pointed at the screen. "You watch. I order pizza."

She rolled her eyes, but clicked her way through Netflix and started the episode. She saw him look up from his phone a few times as he ordered, as if to check if she was really watching and not browsing on Wikipedia, throwing it on his bed when he finished. She didn't look back at him when he marched towards her and stood behind her, his close presence making her blush - like, frankly, every time he ignored the concept of personal space; which means 89% of the time -, even though he wasn't touching her.

She tried to focus on the episode, but, by the time she _finally_ did it, he cleared his throat. "I'll go fetch the pizza, be back in a few."

"Okay," she replied, and literally felt the cold that replaced the warmth that radiated from his body on her back. She heard the door click closed and her shoulders sagged. She didn't even know they were tense before.

She rubbed her face with her hands, not bothering to pause the episode because she knew he was a sneaky observant bastard and would notice it.

She had a crush. It was clear as water now.

She had been mulling over that thought for about a month now, always studying her own feelings when she was around him. Sure, she sometimes forgot, she sometimes spent time with him like she did when they met the year before, but now, she couldn't even _deny_ it. She had a goddamn middle school crush. And she didn't like it.

Sure, they were both made the third wheels with Ruby and Victor, but they had their own separate groups too. Emma also was the third wheel every time she hung out with Mary Margaret and David, and he when he hung out with Robin and Regina. So yeah, it seemed heavens were giving them the go to try something, but she could only hope.

She could see he didn't feel anything for her.

She had grown accustomed to the constant flirting and the smirks and everything, but she saw he did it with any girl that crossed paths with him - she pretended it didn't feel like her chest was being sat on by an elephant.

She just hoped she didn't let it show.

Emma focused on the episode again in a weak attempt to take that damned man off her mind - failing _miserably_ \- in the short period he was gone.

As in a cue, the door opened, followed by a teasing "Honey, I'm home!" - that honestly destroyed her - and the strong scent of pizza that made her realise how hungry she was.

She got up from the chair, walking up to him and opening the box he was offering with a grin. "Now, did you actually watch it or did you search for definitions of words on Google?," he demanded, raising both eyebrows in a mock-serious expression.

"I watched it," she replied with yet another eye roll. She couldn't help it.

He chuckled. "Alright, Swan, as our dearest friends have explicit activities in your room, we shall watch the Avengers."

He handed her the box, taking his laptop and taking it to the bed. He plopped down on it, looking up at her expectantly when she didn't immediately follow.

"Again?," she asked, a curious tone lacing her voice.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you complaining?"

"No," she answered after a beat.

"Then come," he said, patting the space beside him on the bed.

_I hate myself._

She went anyways.

 

* * *

 

"I don't know if it's still here, Killian, I'm sure I gave it to you months ago," she said, opening the door to her room with him on her heels. "Plus, you know I have studying to do."

"No harm in looking here, love. Plus, it's _Saturday_ , have a break."

She gave him one last look over her shoulder as she walked down the tiny corridor, proceeding to search her room with her eyes.

Her steps faltered at the sight.

On her bed, there were a _dozen_ of tiny little kittens. Actual _kittens_. Some were asleep, others were pacing around the matters trying to find a safe way to the ground or just playing with each other.

Yes, she nearly fainted because _kittens_.

She looked at Killian, who was behind her and grinning like a mad man as he gazed at her. She was gaping - at both sights - and was downright speechless.

After a moment, she finally managed to choke out some words. "You did this?"

He just nodded, grin broadening as he took her in, the startled and surprised look on her face, her probably sagged shoulders as she looked at the fur balls on her bed.

When she looked at him again, question in her eyes, his expression softened. "Granny's cat's had a litter," he shrugged. "Just seemed like the right thing to do. You've been stressed for days."

She couldn't help it; she threw her arms around his neck, holding him close to her as she burrowed her face in his neck.

No one had _ever_ done anything of the sorts for her. No one had ever cared enough for her to sneak tiny kitties into her room. No one had ever put her first. Sure, Ruby, Mary Margaret and David were great friends, but they had never done anything like that _just for her._ And Killian'd just done it.

So yes, sue her, she felt tears prickling in the back of her eyes, even though she knew they wouldn't spill out.

She practically melted into him when she felt his arms envelop her in a warm embrace, his hands on her back, after a few seconds of startled surprise. She could feel his thumb caressing the spot even through her shirt, which made her unconsciously tighten her arms. She could smell his light cologne and something else, a salty, ocean-like smell she would label as ' _Killian_ '. Killian smelled of Killian.

"Emma?" She heard the soft calling near her ear, his breath warm against her neck making her shiver. His arms were still around her, so he wasn't calling her as in _are-you-going-to-let-me-go-now_ 'Emma'. She hummed, acknowledging it. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

 _What. What, what, what._ "No," she said, her tone low. "Why?" _Yeah, why?_

He hesitated before speaking again. "I just wanted to know if you'd like to join me for coffee later." His voice was nearly a whisper, as if there were other people in the room and the sentence was made for just her to hear.

 _WHAT, okay, breathe. No, wait, answer._ "I'd be glad to join you," she replied in the same voice, surprised at how calm and composed it sounded.

She could practically _see_ his grin, probably matching hers.

_This was unexpected in the best sense of the word._

And so was their date.

His 'coffee' consisted of him taking her to the most ridiculously expensive coffee place in the city, the one only wealthy businessmen and women went.

You can probably guess they didn't even buy anything before he kissed her on the sidewalk in front of it.

She _definitely_ preferred that over studying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dark!emma makes me nervous.


	53. Oops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found three of the fluffiest prompts I have ever seen and gUESS WHAT IM WRITING THEM.

**Oops**

 

"Swan!"

She heard the soft call before she looked up at the person who spoke. And _of course_ she recognised the voice.

"Killian?" She was definitely startled to have bumped into him in the forever tiny streets of Storybrooke, remembering of his insatiable desires of leaving the little bubble that surrounded the town into the outer world. She believed he would a) have already left, or b) have bumped into her within the years they spent apart and yet frequenting _the same diner._ It was a small town, she thought she would be known if he was still there.

The smile he wore was bright, and he stepped forward and closer to her; but she was still confused, and her confusion bothered her own self. "What are you doing here?" Yes, it had been blunter than she wanted, but whatever, right?

A second-long frown marred his brow before the amused glint she had grown used to during high school gleamed in his eyes. He tilted his head. "I'm sorry, love?"

She blinked, stepping forward herself. "No, don't get me wrong. I'm glad to see you, but didn't you say you were going to travel the world after you, how did you say it? Oh, ' _left this blasted place_ ', was it?"

_Am I teasing? Hopefully._

His grin grew - if that was even possible - and he scratched behind his ear. "Yeah, I gave up on that..."

She raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

He looked distressed for a tiny split second before he schooled his features. With a nonchalant pout, he shrugged. "I don't know, I just... Didn't feel like it, I guess."

Emma hummed, well aware of how he was lying. _Superpower_. "Okay, then. So, where have you been?"

He looked around. "Here."

She rolled her eyes because _of course_ he would have the same personality since puberty started.

Speaking of, puberty did him _good_. His forever disheveled hair was slightly shorter, giving the bed hair he constantly wore contrast with his stubbled - and now sharp, _damn it_ \- jaw. He was taller - or maybe she just shrunk -, and his lean body made him look like a freaking model. Not to mention the clothes: leather jacket over a flannel shirt, which was a combination she was never really fond of and it was making her want to just pull him to her by the lapels.

(Probably not a very different thought from her teenage years'. She had always found him somewhat attractive and weirdly appealing.

But now she was a grown woman, strong and tough from the harsh times she had to rebuild her life after Neal.

And he was still somewhat - or completely - attractive and weirdly - _obviously_ \- appealing.)

His eyes were as blue as she remembered; probably more. Those were the eyes some could drown in if they stared for too long, or get lost in the infinite blue and get hypnotised. She had always feared falling in.

Not that it'd ever stopped her.

"What have you been doing, I meant," she clarified, stepping to his side and motioning for him to walk with her. She had no proper destination; her previous one completely deleted after her eyes roamed his being.

He shrugged once more. "Just working by the docks; different tasks every now and then," he explained, his hands snaking into his jacket pockets as hers did the same. It was cold. _Right?_

She hummed again, her eyes diverting from his face to the sidewalk in front of her. The streets were completely empty, even for a Saturday in the afternoon. "I honestly haven't seen you around."

"I can't really say different, though, love. I've heard your name here and there at the diner - which, by the way, I'm still impressed at how we managed not to meet -, but never actually _saw_ you. Where are we going?"

She didn't even notice how they had turned a corner and, instead of heading to Granny's or whatever people would call a meeting point, her feet were taking her to the docks. "I just normally come here to think. How have I not seen you at work; though?," she wondered aloud, looking up at him in question.

"I've always worked at the far corner of the docks, the one place it's only accessible through doors and stuff."

She had honestly missed his voice. The lilt of the accent mixed with the low tones made her feel warm and comfortable. It was like going back to not being alone at lunch and actually having someone to laugh with about the groups and hierarchies inside the school's corridors.

They literally caught up on their lives - something Emma had always found extremely cliche towards reunions -. A comfortable silence took over their space as they walked, the soft wind coming from the sea calming Emma's barely riled up mood. Her morning had definitely not been one of the best: she had managed to spill hot cocoa on her sweater, trip on nothing while walking down the street, pulled the doorknob of her wardrobe off with a groan at how old it was, and, finally, the embarrassing incident with the toothpaste she had thankfully witnessed by herself, all in less than four hours. Her walk by the Main Street's shops had been an attempt to cooling her nerves, the approaching winter making the winds chilly and cold, a.k.a. Emma's best calming technique.

When she dropped on a bench, she felt him doing the same, and the corners of her mouth tugged up at how their shoulders brushed. With a sigh, she relaxed against the hardwood rest and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Do you want to grab some coffee, Swan?," he suddenly asked, blunt and confident - or just how she remembered he was.

"I thought we'd already caught up," she told him, turning her head to face him and slightly worried at how close it was to the side of his. All she wanted go do was lean forward.

"Who said anything about catching up?," he cocked an eyebrow, finally turning to her. Of course she ignored the way his eyes travelled to her lips for a split second as she quickly admired the contrast between his and his skin.

She eyes him, narrowing her eyes and studying his face. After about half a minute, she finally nodded. "Okay."

She couldn't help but notice how startled he was for a moment, holding back a smile at the one that stretched on his lips.

They ended up at Granny's, sitting opposite from each other in a booth, Emma holding her warm mug of hot cocoa between her hands and Killian sipping his own coffee. She couldn't help but occasionally spend long seconds studying his - downright _ridiculously_ \- handsome face as he read the menu.

When she looked around in a hopeless search for something to talk about, she caught Ruby's curious eyes. The look the brunette sent her from behind the counter was a mix between knowing and teasing, a grin slowly forming in her lips. Rolling her eyes at her friend, she only now remembered how she always made more assumptions than she cared to confirm.

When Killian finally managed to engage them in a conversation about high school, she was grateful. His improvement at, well, _everything_ was highly distracting and made her put her forces in _not_ gaping whenever she found a new angle of his face, leading to an awkward silence that was normally present at unexpected reunions.

"I was literally grateful I had somewhere to sit other than, I don't know, a booth in the girls' restroom. Though my massive crush on you did make it all look much better than it probably was. Let's be honest, the tiny corner table at the cafeteria wasn't one of the best, right?" She glanced up at him and saw he looked startled. She went through all she had just said and had to concentrate in her mug to not punch herself when she realised where she'd lost him.

She had nonchalantly confessed her crush on her high school friend that had been overcome over the years and now was probably back because she _had_ eyes.

He blinked once, then twice. Emma's breath hitched as she waited for him to say, well, _anything_. But he just frowned and stared at her napkin, deep in thought, as she clenched her jaw in impatience. _Wow, this is incredibly off-putting. SAY SOMETHING._

He then _finally_ \- finally - took a breath to speak. "The prom."

His eyes were still on the napkin, but she looked up at him in a blink. "What?"

He lifted his head then, a confused look in history eyes. "Why didn't you go to the prom with me, then?" He didn't sound judgemental, just purely curious and slightly hurt. Probably not, to the latter.

"Oh." She was taken aback at his straightforward attitude and thought for a moment. Memories of him shyly asking her to be her date to their senior prom flooded her mind and she inwardly cringed. "I knew you were doing it because you were my friend and knew I was going alone. It's why you took so long to ask."

He chuckled, perching up on his seat as he set his coffee aside, resting his elbows in front of him and leaning towards her on them. "No, Emma, it's not."

"What?" _Seriously, though._ What _?_

He huffed another laugh, looking around for a second before fixing her with his forget-me-not blue orbs. "I took so long to ask you because I was a bloody fearful and goofy _teenager_. I'd wanted to ask you, and you _only_ , since they announced it."

What was he trying to say? She leaned back on her seat, folding her arms across her chest. "Great, so you knew I wasn't going to be asked by anyone in a month. Awesome."

"No, Swan, you're getting this wrong. I wanted to ask you since they announced it because I _liked_ you."

To affirm her mind was melting by that point was an understatement. "What?"

"I was literally so afraid it would ruin our friendship I only grew the guts to ask you less than a week before it happened."

"Are you serious?"

"Never been more," he raised his eyebrows. _This is happening._

"So you're saying we both had feelings for each other and never had the courage to let it out, which lead to lower our self esteem for _quite_ a while and literally going separate ways after school?"

"That is precisely what I'm saying."

She rested her arms on the table and dropped her head on them. "I hate teenagers."

"At least you're not one anymore."

She lifted her head, leaving her chin propped on her forearms, and looked up at him. He had a smug and too suggestive expression that made her blush. _Innuendos... I vaguely remember them. Or not. Maybe they didn't exist at the time._

_Kids grow up._

Before the bad side of her mind could take over and fog the entire thing up, she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but we literally wasted a few years there."

He shrugged, probably trying to appear nonchalant, but she could see the anxiety and anticipation in his eyes. "Maybe we could make it up over dinner tonight?"

Was he asking her out?

"Yes, I am."

Oh, she said it out loud. Okay.

She pretended to think about it - even though the answer was one of the biggest yesses she would ever say in her life because _God_ , she _still_ had a crush on him -, her eyes narrowing as she studied his pretty features. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk marring his lips as she took a deep breath before speaking.

"Surprisingly enough, I say we do it," she finally answered, straightening her back as he tilted his head.

"' _Surprisingly_?'" He was no doubt grinning now.

It turned out he was also a ' _surprisingly_ ' good kisser and made ' _surprisingly_ ' great pancakes in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually sorry about the wait, but I was partly upset with most of you and also school and my year's gonna be _so fullllllllllllll_ I'm actually dreading it.


	54. Ticklish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a real hard time at forming coherent words after that episode, so I made a good decision in writing more than half of this chapter yesterday. Jesus.

**Ticklish**

 

"N-- Swan, _stop it._ "

"Oh, come _on_!"

"It's not funny or entertaining."

"This literally made my life better."

"It's a flaw."

"It's a _weakness_." 

"Call it whatever you want, love, but just step back."

"I didn't know you were so scandalous about this, though."

He was facing her from the other side of the couch, the back of his legs hitting the coffee table as he used the couch as a barrier. He had both hands lifted, as if they were yet another barrier, which made everything funnier.

"How did you manage to keep this from me for over a year?," she wondered, slowly walking to round the couch and step closer to him.

"To be honest, I'd rather keep it longer." His smile was a mix between fear and amusement.

"Too bad." With that said, she pounced on him, her fingers flying towards his ribs. He stepped back in a frantic attempt to dodge her, hitting the table and nearly falling down, but managing to stand upright as he straightened himself, keeping as much distance between them as he could.

This was probably the only situation he would rather her to stay away than close.

She didn't give up though; advancing towards him again, she managed to grab hold of his arm and pull him to her, making sure to flush their chests together before pinching his side. He yelped, flinching and jumping away from her once more.

Killian Jones was ticklish. _Very_ ticklish.

When she started running after him around the house, managing only a few pinches and pokes here and there, she realised he had quit being the whining baby he was being before to laughing along with her. Yes, laughter slowed her, but it slowed him down too.

She never thought she would be so determined in taking her best from Killian's weak spots. Like his boat and now, the tickling.

_This is golden._

She was indeed impressed at how both were desperate to reach their objectives: he jumped over furniture and shielded himself with pillows and threw quilts over her in an attempt to make her stop and she dodged and ripped them off her immediately. It looked like a freaking _battle_.

He managed to somehow slip on a quilt and fall over the couch, his backside practically digging on the floor, but he didn't seem fazed; he just got up and kept running. Just like a little kid. _Okay_.

"Don't tackle me if you ever get close enough!," he warned her, running around the couch as she took a shortcut and jumped over it.

She tackled him.

Well, it wasn't really a tackle. If she were heavier and he weren't as strong as he was, they would definitely be on the ground now. But he managed to keep standing, Emma hugging his neck with might in the fear of dropping to the ground as her legs went around his hips. He didn't even bother in holding her; he only gripped the couch's rest looking for support as he caught his breath.

To feel how warm he was from all the running and 'parkour', his back and shoulders moving up and down with his heavybreathing, made her unconsciously tighten her arms around him, sighting into the side of his neck and chuckling at the shiver she felt less than a second after.

His hands finally came to hook under her knees, and he padded around the sofa again, this time slowly dropping her to the cushions. But he didn't move. He was purposefully crushing her under him.

"Is this some kind of vengeance?," she croaked out, her hands fisting the material of his shirt.

"No doubt, love," he chuckled, but loosened his weight on her right after. She sighed - both in relief and to finally be able to properly feel him laying over her - as he lifted his legs to the other end of the couch, snuggling deep into her arms with a sigh of his own.

She nuzzled his head, her nose burrowing in his dark locks, and she cherished the smell of shampoo, the last remains of the barbecue David and Mary Margaret threw earlier that afternoon and just _home_.

This was her home, in his arms - or his in hers -, surrounded by comfortable silence and various pillows strewn across the room's floor.

"Are you okay?," she suddenly asked, a memory waving across her mind.

"Of course, darling, why?," he questioned, his hand skimming down her arm to tangle their fingers together.

"You literally fell from the couch. The normal would be to complain and whine about it." She rested we chin on his head as she waited for a reply.

She felt him shrug against her chest. "I guess I was too wrapped up in the moment."

"Does it hurt now?"

"I'm still wrapped in the the moment, love."

She chuckled, glad to see he was naturally following her. But she couldn't stop. She started laughing. _Chortling_ , even. _What is happening._ She could feel he was in the same state as she was - well, not completely. She had tears in her eyes by the time she began to calm down the _slightest_ bit -, his back rumbling with laughter.

The image of him falling to the ground and just dismissing it away kept repeating in her mind, and she just couldn't stop.

She lifted her hand to dry her eyes, the exhaustion from travelling to the other side of the town and back plus the chase they just had finally falling - pun unintended - upon her. She vaguely felt him detangle their legs and flipping them over so _he_ would hold her. She couldn't help but sigh at his move.

Dropping a kiss to the crown of her head, he squeezed her for a moment with his arm. "Tired, love?"

She nodded, her eyes shutting before she could even notice it. Snuggling deeper into him, she burrowed her face in the crook of his neck and breathed him in, smiling at the feeling of his lips on her cheek. She stretched up to touch her lips to his, a sweet move she was always happy to make, and leaned her cheek into his hand when he raised it to skim his thumb across her jaw.

He tasted of hot cocoa and popcorn and Killian and many things that made the perfect combination to make her feel warm and fuzzy. She felt his arm around her waist, savouring the fact of how they just _fit_ , and finally pulled back, nearly giggling at how he followed her for more.

Killian touched his forehead with hers, his tongue wetting his lower lip as Emma tried not to stare.

_Who cares?_

She stared. His deep blue eyes here half covered by heavy lids, and she didn't know if it was because he as tired of just because of their kiss.

She let her hands travel from their spot on his collarbone to his chest, feeling his raced heartbeat through the thin material of his shirt. He once said it beat for her. She had kissed him right after.

"I love you, Swan."

It wasn't the first time he had said it- not by far -, but it always succeeded at making her heart's pace quicken and her brain to melt.

"I love you too," she whispered against his neck once he pulled her to him again, sleep finally urging her to close her eyes and enjoy his warm embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gUYS GUYS GUYS I CANT HANDLE CS ANYMORE ITS TOO PAIFUL AND TOO GOOD AND ITS LIKE FORE BC ITS WARM BUT IF YOU GO IN TOO DEEP YOU'LL GET BURNED AND IM WAAAAAAAAAAAAAY WAY WAY DEEPER THAN I SHOULD AND GOD. ADAM AND EDDY ARE GOING TO KILL KE BEFORE THIS SEASON ENDS. 
> 
> Btw, this was endless fluff and I giggled sometimes.


	55. Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooooooooookay, it's been a little while. I've literally tried six different prompts for this. But I finally made it. It's kinda short too, but I guess it's good.

**Kisses**

 

Emma could say she regretted keeping secrets. But that one was different. She wasn't ready to share him with the world. Not even her friends.

Living alone had its ups and downs. You had to do the laundry and worry about taxes and rent, clean the place and pay the bills. But you could also bring your secret boyfriend home to hangout or do _other_ stuff.

Emma was never one to have many friends. She was already amazed and grateful at how she had Mary Margaret, August, Ruby and her foster brother David. Most of all, she was grateful for Killian. He was the one who seemingly understood her the best.

After David's near marriage to disastrous Kathryn in London, they got back to New York.

But it wasn't many people who knew what actually happened in London. Only Killian and Emma.

Emma had gotten drunk at the rehearsal dinner for the wedding for some reason she couldn't even remember anymore. She had somehow taken Killian, the soothing hand on her back whenever she was sad, into the same path and both ended up drunk. And naked. In his hotel room. You know _why_.

The next day, they decided to forget it. Until they did it again.

Once they were back from London, they couldn't hold themselves anymore. Emma found the space next to her in bed weirdly empty and cold if she slept alone.

So they made it a thing.

The famous 'friends with benefits' thing she had always found to be crap. It really was.

In less than a month, she was already falling for him. In less than a month, she found herself seeking him for other reasons than the _bedroom activities._ In less than a month, he started stopping by her place just to hang out with her alone.

One night, she brought up the fact that their friendship was ruined. She thought he would fret; but he just said they could be _more_ than a friendship since there was no going back. She kissed him afterwards.

But, even after three weeks of secrecy of their now proper relationship, she still wasn't ready. She didn't feel the need to share him with the rest of the world; things were just fine the way they were.

But she still knew they couldn't stay like that forever.

So she nearly had a panic attack one morning as they had breakfast at Mary Margaret's place.

Were sitting in a table she, Killian, Ruby and Mary Margaret, David sitting on the stool by the counter. Emma read a book as she finished her pancakes while Ruby and Mary Margaret talked animatedly about a new handmade articles shop that opened across the street.

Killian took a final sip of his coffee and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Well, I shall be going now."

He got up, absent-mindedly bending down to peck Emma on the lips. Neither of them thought about it, neither of them showed any kind of wariness or difference.

Killian froze above her a second after he pulled away, his eyes widening in realisation of what he'd just done. Emma clenched her jaw, because _of course_ they would act normal about it, it _was_ for them. She noticed Mary Margaret and Ruby had stopped their conversation and were intently yet confusingly staring at them.

Luckily enough, Killian'd always been a quick thinker. Straightening his back, he purposefully rounded the table and reached them.

"Goodbye, Mary Margaret." Bending down once again, he stiffly pressed his lips to her and Emma didn't know if she laughed or cried in a) jealousy or b) shame of how ultimately  _ridiculous_ the whole thing was.

Straightening again - leaving a confused looking get cheek tinted Mary Margaret behind -, he stepped to Ruby's side and did the same. "Goodbye, Ruby." The brunette was also a bit flushed - you could say Killian was the definition of _hot stuff_ \- and was clearly as lost as the previous _victim_.

When Killian looked up to David, who was watching the scene with a confused and disgusted look, Emma saw his despair. He stilled for a moment. "Dave," he finally said, stepping forwards firmly, only to be stopped by David's raised hand.

"Don't you even dare," her brother said, his eyes closing.

Emma didn't miss the way Killian smirked in relief. With a nod, he walked across the room towards the door, his eyes landing on each friend's face - lingering on Emma's. Oh god, she loved him -, and outed the loft.

The room was quiet for at least a minute before anyone raised their voices.

"What just happened?," Mary Margaret mumbled, slightly disturbed.

"I don't know," Emma lied, faking astonishment.

"Hope he does it more often," Ruby raised an eyebrow, a grin on we face as she dug into her own pancakes once more.

Emma had to put more effort than she would like into not glaring at her friend.

"Hope he doesn't," David grumbled, roughly turning the page of the newspaper he read.

At that, she couldn't keep a smile.

 

* * *

 

 (They ended up telling the guys less than two weeks later.

He also blurted out he loved her.

She didn't hesitate in saying it back.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That episode was ew. Just no.


	56. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the easiest yet favourite chapters of mine. I really really really like it

**Night**

 

"You didn't have to bring it over here, you know?"

It was night. She was leaning onto her yellow bug as she waited her her fiancée to come back from work.

Their usual meeting spot would be in front of Granny's, but he insisted in them meeting at this park. The park she had stepped on a thousand times and never actually studied the beauty of it. The trees, now coloured in yellow, orange and red due the autumn, took clean and light shapes, the leaves on the ground giving the park a comfortable and cozy appearance. The white stone of the pavement contrasted with the dark waters of the ponds and the greens of the grass. The night sky, today starred, added a new feature to the beauty of that park.

"Yes, I did," he said, approaching her and softly touching her lips with his. He handed her one of the to-go cups he had taken at Granny's and offered his now free arm for her to take. She didn't hesitate in resting her hand on the crook of his elbow, leaning into the warmth of his body as she sipped her hot chocolate. It was a cool night, the cold breeze tickling her face, but she couldn't find it in herself to complain. He was there with her, and that was what mattered.

"How was your day, love?," he asked her, sipping his own drink as they slowly walked along the paths of the park.

"Quite boring, to be honest," she replied, her head instinctively going to rest on his shoulder. The peacoat she was wearing was warm enough, but it was never much to seek for _more_ warmth; mainly if it came from the man walking with her. "What about yours?"

"We made a few new things, but nothing too exciting. I'd much rather spend a day in with you," he added, pressing a sweet kiss to her head. She closed her eyes for a second at the feeling.

"Why did you insist in meeting here tonight?"

"Are you complaining?" There was not a single trace of bite or coldness in his tone; only slight amusement.

"Not at all. The place's beautiful."

"Aye, it is," he agreed, his eyes darting from the sky to her. "The reason I chose this place was that it dawned on me yesterday that we are now engaged."

"By ' _now_ ', you mean a month?" She was wearing a smile now, there was no doubt of that.

He chuckled lightly. "Precisely. And I've never taken you some place quiet enough to revel that fact. We are to spend the rest of our lives together, and I can feel it'll be quite a journey."

The mention of a permanent future with someone should've coaxed her away, made her push him away, but it didn't. It made her lean closer into him and sigh when his own arm pulled her against him by the hand that rested there. It made her feel a wave of warmth spread across her chest and it made her feel adored. And that was definitely one of her favourite feelings. It obviously scared her, but she knew they would pull though it together.

"We'll manage it."

"Oh, I am quite sure we will." She could hear the smile on his voice, bringing one to her own lips.

She was wearing gloves and didn't even notice the cup slipping from her hands before the noise echoed in the park, making the both of them jump in surprise. Luckily, she managed to flinch out of the hot liquid's reach before it was too late. With a sudden laughter bubbling up her chest, she bent to pick the now empty cup from the ground and threw it in the nearest trashcan.

They spent long minutes in silence, savouring the calm and quiet of the park and the crickets' different songs and tones. At some point, they reached a bench that faced a pond. There was a lamp or two following the road, but they stopped there and took a seat. His arm went instinctively around her shoulders as she kept her head on his. She could feel his body warmth even through the jacket, the vest and the shirt.

She stretched her neck to place a kiss to his jaw, just for the sake of it. She couldn't express in words the devotion in his eyes - that were probably mirroring her own - and the happiness sketched all over his face made her heart ache. They had no reason to worry about anything at the moment. All the sorrows of her past were buried because _he was there._

Suddenly, she felt his body shift under her and he got up, making sure to grab her hand and pull her up with him.

"What are we doing?"

" _We_ are dancing."

His hand skimmed down her arm and rested on her lower back, pulling her close to him. Her own hand travelled up his chest and settled on his shoulder. The fact that mostly surprised her was the way he proceeded to hold her; instead of letting go of her other hand to let her wrap both her arms around his neck, he held it close to his chest.

She had only ever seen elderly couples dance like that, and had always found it pleasing to watch. The pair would always look so immersed in the mere feeling of their partner against them, they would just forget the outside world and dance. They would always have a smile on their faces.

Now, she knew why they looked like that. Resting her head right under his chin, she closed her eyes and followed his moves and slow turns and paces.

Until he started humming The Nearness Of You. The clear low sound of his voice through his nose gave the song a new special meaning for her. She could nearly hear the trumpet and the piano.

Her eyes slowly opened in astonishment - she wondered how he'd found a song that fit so perfectly with the moment in that messy head of his -, just to be closed again after a few seconds. She was relishing the moment, cherishing the fact that that was the man she was going to marry.

They were slowly spinning around the bench, the music filling her ears and making her insides melt at how _perfect_ he was.

Once the song was over, they stopped moving. He just held her there, his thumb lightly caressing her knuckles and his lips touched to her hairline. She kept her eyes closed, listening to his slow, relaxed breathing and feeling his strong heartbeat against her own chest.

She never thought she would ever feel like this, so happy to be in the right somewhere with the right someone.

Yet, there she was. Not that she was complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went all JK Rowling in the 'love can be shown without actually saying the words' thing; the pronoun game was just cuz. 
> 
> And here ends the As You Wish era. Hope y'all enjoyed that collection.
> 
> Now we're bACK IN BUSINESS HERE HELL YEAH OKAY


	57. Dad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so, since I've started a multi chapter fic (The New One, a New Girl AU, and i do hope it is better than it sounds), I'm sort of focusing there because y'all know how crappy my history with multi chapters is. The updates here are definitely going to be less frequent than before - probably once a week - so, don't fret, I have not abandoned Timeless. And I hope I never do because its my baby.

**Dad?**

 

He and Emma had been quite serious for about five months and he was sure it was okay to ask her. And even if it wasn't, it wasn't going to affect their relationship, right?

 _I hope so_.

He was in the corner of the park when he sighted her reading a plaque near a tree. He grinned absent-mindedly at how beautiful she looked and how he had missed her over the past week.

"Afternoon, love," he greeted when he was close enough to be heard.

She whipped her head around at the sound of his voice and his heart soared when her lips split into a smiled. She walked right into his opening arms and he buried his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply and cherishing her soft scent of cinnamon and lavender. Her arms tightened around him when he pressed a shy kiss there and he smiled again. He really did love her. He shivered slightly when her head turned and she pressed a long loving kiss to his cheek, and he couldn't help but lean into it.

"How was your week without me there to tell you to have take out instead of cooking?," she asked when they broke apart, her eyes boring into his as a smirk set on his lips.

"Horrifying. The man next door violently knocked on my door at 10 pm to tell me to stop the banging on his wall," he informed, his eyes widening momentarily. "There _was_ no banging."

She chuckled and it was one of his favourite sounds. "So, why did you choose this specific park for our so awaited reunion?"

"Why _not_ , Swan?"

"Touché."

They walked for about five minutes before sitting down on a bench. He was going to do it. _Now or never._

"So, love. This Saturday... Well, there's going to be a a sort of work event and, well, they've allowed those who wanted to bring a plus one." He rose his eyes to hers and found an amused glint in them. "I was thinking of you'd like to be mine?"

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Are you seriously _asking_?"

He just shrugged. "Never hurts. Is that a yes?"

She leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a soft chaste kiss that made him sigh. He really really loved her. " _Yes_ , it was," she said, a mock impatient tone marring her voice.

"Good."

 

* * *

 

"You ready, love?"

" _Yeah_ ," she called back, emerging from the bedroom a second later.

He had to admit, no matter how many times he'd seen her in pretty party clothes, it still always startled him how beautiful she looked _all the time._ He blinked several times before managing to utter words. "You look stunning, Swan."

She smiled timidly, a blush settling on her cheeks, and she stepped towards him, stopping to plant a quick kiss on his lips and letting her hand slide from his shoulder to his hand, tugging on it as she walked to the door. "Let's go."

He opened the car's door when they got to the sidewalk, waiting for her to get inside before rushing around the vehicle to hop in and turn the ignition.

"Are you nervous?," she suddenly asked him as soon as they started moving.

"I don't know, love. My boss is giving this party; I thought I could maybe take my lovely girlfriend to charm him into giving me a promotion," he joked, casting an amused glance towards her as a smirk graced his lips.

He didn't need to look at her to know she rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"I'm _your_ idiot."

She chuckled. "That you are."

He really, really, _really_ did love her.

 

* * *

 

"Well, Killian, and who is this lovely lady?"

He heard the voice behind him and he and Emma turned around. "Robin," he greeted, smiling at his coworker.

" _Regina_?"

Killian frowned and looked over at Emma. How did she know the woman on Robin's arm?

The brunette blinked, her face partially blank. "Emma. What are you doing here?"

"Um..." She looked around, apparently confused. "Killian brought me."

The older one's eyes moved to him and he could feel them peering into his soul - and it wasn't exactly _pleasant_. "He _brought_ you?" She sounded amused. She scared him.

"Uh, yeah... I see _your_ Robin works with him."

They spent about ten seconds in deep and awkward silence, not knowing what to say or what to do. Right when Regina was about to say something, a man Killian didn't _quite_ know clapped Robin on the shoulder, pulling the couple's attention and giving Killian and Emma the leave to silently excuse themselves and walk to another spot of the room.

At some point, she excused herself to head to the washrooms and left him with a kiss on his cheek. He checked his phone for notifications and found himself reading back his old texts with Emma.

He jumped slightly when he felt her hand close around his arm forcefully a few minutes later and tucked the phone away, rising his eyes to find hers, fiery and startled.

"I just saw my dad," she warned in a frantic whisper.

"Your _dad_?," he questioned, fully turning to her.

"He's apparently your boss," she huffed, looking around.

He blinked in astonishment, shuffling on his feet. "Your father is _David Nolan_?"

"Yeah."

"Why did I _not_ know this?"

"I was actually planning on introducing you to them in a few weeks," she scratched the nape of her neck with a finger.

He kept silence for a few moments. "Have I known your _father_ for _two years_?"

"Yes."

He chuckled breathlessly, disbelief probably sketched all over his face. "I honestly don't know what to think of this."

"Should we just go to him?," she asked, a nervous tone that made him automatically grab her hand.

"What do you think he'll say?"

"Probably ' _what_ '," she chuckled.

With a smile, he pressed a kiss to her hairline when she ducked her head. "Then let's do this, Swan."

He saw her swallow and tightened his grip on her hand. _This is going to be interesting._

As they walked through the crowd, discreetly searching for a familiar rich laugh or the broad shoulders of his boss, and decided to stop by a wall to look.

"How didn't you know this would be the same party, love?," he blurted out, the question suddenly surging in his mind.

"I knew he had a _party_ , but I didn't really ask about it," she defended. "I was a bit more concerned about what was I going to wear for _your_ party."

He felt a slight warmth on his neck and moved his eyes from hers to the people around them. Until he saw him.

" _There_." He tugged on her hand, featuring towards the back of Mr Nolan's head and breathing in deeply.

"I have an idea."

"Say it."

"What if you go there alone, talk for a while, soften him up and you just casually mention me. I'll be near the washroom waiting for your signal."

"What is the signal?"

"You'll think of something."

He hesitated for a bit before nodding firmly. "Alright. That's a nice plan."

"Then go," she said, urging his towards her father and moving from the wall.

His palms were sweating by the time he reached the older man. "Evening, sir."

"Killian! Nice to see you came," he greeted, shaking the hand the dark haired had stretched out. "How long've you been here?"

"About half an hour."

"Did you bring anyone?"

This is going faster than I presumed. "Er, yes, actually."

The blonde man grinned, raising a brow. "I look forward to meet her."

He could almost hear his own internal sarcastic laugh.

He spent about five minutes talking to his boss about random topics, going from a project they had been working on for a few months to how many dogs he wished to have with his wife and children.

"You have children?," he faked curiosity and surprise, because _of course_ he had children.

"Yes, two, actually. A 12 year old and a girl about your age."

"A _woman_ , then?," Killian questioned with a smirk. He was asking for it, even _he_ could see it.

"Nah-ah, Jones, she's taken."

"Have you met the lucky one, then?"

"I haven't," David sighs. "But, from what she tells me, he's a nice guy."

Killian hummed, internally proud of his Swan and of himself. "So, if you ever came upon to meet him....?"

"I wouldn't be _that_ hard on him," he deadpanned, as if it were an intern joke between them.

He was dying on the inside. What did he do now?

"By the way, Killian, where is the lady _you've_ brought?"

_Ah, there it is._

"Er..." He looked over the older man's shoulder and sighted her long cascading hair. She was looking at him expectantly and scratched behind his ear. That was a sign, right?

 _Right_ , he confirmed to himself as she started towards them, a smile settling on his lips.

"She's actually walking towards us, sir."

David have him a warm smile before turning around. And then he froze.

Emma pretended to be surprised. "Dad?"

" _Emma_?"

Killian blinked. 

"You two know each other?," he asked, his eyes wandering from Killian to Emma. "I thought you were dating that Jones boy."

"He... _Is_ the Jones boy, dad."

" _This_ is the Jones you've been talking about for months?," he asked, skeptical, pointing at Killian as the dark haired sipped on his glass.

She walked to his side, stopping right there, her right shoulder brushing his left one, making his heart race a bit. "Yeah. You're his boss?"

"I am," David said dryly, his eyes hardening as he looked at Killian. But he surprisingly didn't feel _too scared_ for his job. Probably because Emma was there. Suddenly, the man's shoulders dropped. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I wasn't ready. Still am not, by the way," she added, lowering her head. All Killian wanted to do was grab her hand, but her arms were folded across her chest.

"Why did you bring her?," David turned to Killian, his eyes and voice not _as_ impatient as before.

"To be fair, sir, I didn't know either."

The grey haired sighed, rubbing two fingers over one eye quickly before straightening up. "You'll have to introduce him to your mother..."

Emma grinned. "No problem."

(In the end, Mary Margaret ended up inviting Killian for their next vacation trip after stuffing him with cookies and comfort and warmth. He wasn't complaining at all; he had his Swan next to him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw the idea on tumblr and I was like 'omg this is so cool' and it was 2 am and it just flew out.


	58. Prom night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I found out writing for multiple stories is hard af  
> Let's not even comment about this (this is like a second attempt at a chapter - I wrote 4k words in the first and hated it) but anyways.
> 
> I wrote this at 4 am after that epISODE IT WAS SO GOOD
> 
> AND WHAT THE HELL IS THAT FINALE. I DONT EVEN

**Prom night**

 

"What?," was the first word that left Emma's mouth when Neal texted her that night.

_Sorry, babe, but we're gonna have to cancel our date to the prom. I'm going with Bell._

_I thought she already had a date too_ , she thought. _That Jones dude._

**_Neal, it's our senior year prom, I've talked to you about this for months!_ **

_I'm sorry, Bell's got a limo._

"You're trading me for a _limo_?," she muttered out loud, blocking her phone without even replying. _What an asshole._

She grabbed her laptop - _thank god for Marco and his paternal instincts. And his whole self, to be honest_ \- and opened her email, clicking on Ruby's contact and starting a chat.

_**I have no date for the prom** _

The answer came less than ten seconds later.

_What?! What about Neal_

_**He ditched me for Bell** _

_He ditched you for Tinker Bell?!_

Emma chuckled at the nickname.

_**Yeah.** _

_Do you know why?_

**_She has a limo for the night_ **

_Neal had you_

_**Past tense well used.** _

_So, are you two done?_

_**Hopefully. This was definitely the last straw** _

_Who was Tink's date before mr asshole stepped in?_

_**Killian Jones** _

It took Ruby another full minute to answer.

**_I know exactly what you're gonna do ;)_ **

 

* * *

 

"So, wait, you want me to walk up to him, tell him Bell's ditched him, make small talk then propose your beautiful plan to him?" Emma snapped her notebook closed and finally looked up at Ruby.

"Exactly."

" _Why_ do I even hang out with you?," asked the blonde incredulously.

"Because you love me as much as I love you," Ruby explained, throwing her arm around Emma's shoulder and yanking her closer.

With a snort, she pushed her away, tucking the notebook inside her backpack and getting up, throwing it over her shoulder. "Do you even know where he is after class?"

"Yeah, his last period is English, so he's leaving Miss French's class by the end of the day. He's normally one of the last to leave the room, so don't worry if he doesn't just _pop_ up."

Emma shook her head lightly. "How do you even know this?," she asked in a tone just above a whisper.

"I know a guy."

Pursing her lips, Emma turned her back and ushered her feet to move to her own English class.

 

* * *

 

Mr Hopper had set them free of that cage of cement and wood fifteen minutes earlier because he was a kind soul. As Emma walked towards Miss French's class, all she could think about was how she should have _thought that through_.

What was she going to say? She rarely spoke to him now, except for the causal comments in the only class they had together - Chemistry, on Mondays - or a bit of small talk in the halls or whatever. She had been more friendly with him when they were in middle school, but, as the years passed, they got more and more apart. It had been years since she last had a long conversation with him.

She stopped before the door and didn't even risk a peek inside from the little window on it. Leaning on the wall next to the doorframe, she took off her phone and attempted to focus on whatever game she was playing, failing miserably.

Her thoughts still lingered on Killian. She hadn't given him a good look in a while. What did he _actually_ look like now? She remembered she had always been blown away by how blue his eyes were, and was aware of the light stubble he grew on his jaw, but what were the details?

She also remembered the day he told her where he came from.

("I was actually born in Ireland," he was saying as they waited for class to start. "But my father had to move to England because of his work when I was about three, so I'm mostly from there."

"Why did you come to the U.S.?," Emma asked, her 11 year old big green eyes fixing him without even blinking.

"My mother," he replied with a shrug. "After my father left us, she wanted a fresh start. Plus, my brother just got accepted at uni here, so I think that counts it up."

"College."

"What?"

"You said _uni_. You're an American citizen, now, you have to fit in," she joked, and was pleased to see the smile creeping up to his lips.)

Did he even have his accent anymore? It was the second thing that had caught her attention the day she'd met him. It was foreign and it had been the first time she'd heard an accent in real life.

Her life had just started becoming good at the time. After years in the foster system, Marco had been like a star in a _very_ dark sky for her. He treated her like a daughter, even though she saw him mostly as a grandfather. He had August already, who was already a grown man and fresh out of college, and Emma saw the both of them as their family.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud ring of the bell and the commotion inside the room. When the first person came out - clearly eager to leave that space, as they passed by her like a lightening -, she tried her best to act nonchalant, still leaned on the wall and phone in hand - never mind the fact that her eyes were unfocused on the screen, her head focused mostly on Killian.

She looked up when the big crowds stopped _pouring_ out of the classroom, the few people that were not in a rush calmly exiting it. Cue to tall, handsome and _very_ well grown Killian Jones to come out.

And boy, did puberty do him good. When they were in middle school, he had always been that kind of gangly, skinny pre teen with a too pale skin and long-ish black hair, but _now_? Now it was the opposite. His skin was lightly tanned, a little blush on his cheeks and ears that made him look _adorable_ ; his hair now trimmed to the honestly _perfect_ length, unruly and completely disheveled; his body - _wow_ \- was still lean, but she could see the muscles of his _back_ under his flannel shirt. _Damn. Okay, focus now._

"Killian," she called, and was surprised he had heard her in midst all the chaos of going home for the day and voices rumbling from all around, his body immediately turning around towards her.

" _Swan_!," he exclaimed, walking forwards to free the way and scratching behind his year. _Accent, check._

"Hey, I was wondering if we could talk for a moment." She decided to be straightforward and not walk around the bushes. He was slightly taken aback, but nodded either way.

She pushed off the wall, starting to walk slowly towards the exit of the building and suppressed a smile when he did the same.

"So, okay, I don't know if you're aware, but Tin-- _Bell_ is going to the prom with Neal Cassidy." _Please be aware, please be aware._

"What?" _Damn_.

"Yeah, I was a bit surprised too," she continued, and looked up to see him frowning at the floor. "He was _my_ date. But anyway, I thought that was a dick move and a _friend_ of mine--"

"Miss Lucas, I gather?," he suggested, and yeah, _okay_ , she smiled at that.

"Yeah, that one. She said this demanded revenge and made me propose you a plan."

"I'm listening."

"Well, according to her, since our prom dates ditched us for each other, we could, and I quote, ' _show them what they're missing_ '," she rolled her eyes after the last part, her hands raising to gesture air quotes. "Which basically translates to pairing up to the prom and make both of them jealous."

"I confess I must give it away to Ruby, she's truly exceeded herself here," he chuckled.

"I know, she came up with this in less than a minute," she laughed with him, and they reached the outside.

As they walked down the steps, she continued. "I, firstly, thought this was one of the worst ideas she'd ever had, but then..." She sighed, shaking her head lightly. "Neal told me he was going with Bell over text. I mean, who even does that?"

"People I feel the need to punch, apparently," she heard him mutter, and couldn't hold back a little grin. "So," he started once they reached the side walk and stopped. "Pick you up at eight?," he teased, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head forward a few inches. His lack of sense of personal space surprisingly didn't bother her much - he smelled nice.

"Yeah, yeah, something like that," she waved off, taking a step backwards and starting to walk home.

"See you around, love," was the last thing she heard before putting her earbuds on and drowning in music.

 

* * *

 

Rumours that Emma Swan and Killian Jones were going to prom together spread faster than she'd anticipated and she'd never felt more popular.

(She was inside a box in the restrooms when she heard a group of four girls that sounded a bit younger than her come in.

"... _Jones dude's pretty hot_ ," one was saying.

" _I hope that by '_ pretty _' you mean 'absolutely'_ ," another giggled.

" _Seriously, that should be illegal._ "

" _I think it's because he's a senior_ ," the first one commented.

" _No, it's because he's just hot_."

" _They're having the prom in a week, right?_ ," one asked, and the other three hummed in agreement. " _Did he even accept any girls invites?_ "

One of them gasped - Emma couldn't exactly pin point which, they all sounded just the same whiny 15 year old. " _Imagine being asked to prom by him._ "

" _God, I'd cry for thee days in joy. But yeah, is anyone going with him?_ "

" _Isn't that Bell girl going?_ "

" _No, she's with Neal Cassidy now. It's some Emma Swan chick._ "

" _Oh, I've seen her around. It's a blonde that walks with Ruby Lucas._ " Of course she would be Ruby's sidekick.

" _Are they dating?"_

" _Is she pretty enough to be with him?_ "

" _I heard she's good at sports._ "

She had to put an end to that before it got ugly. Unlocking the door and outing the right space, she only made short eye contact with the suddenly silent group before washing her hands and leaving the place without a word spoken. They'd looked _terrified_.)

It was a Friday, so the mood around the school was basically screaming weekend. She met Ruby for lunch and was welcomed by her friend's grinning face.

"Well, hello, there, _Mrs Jones_!"

"Ruby..."

"No, really, this thing spread like a _disease_. You know what that means, right?"

"No, I _don_ \--"

"It means that one: half loves you together and two: the other half dislikes the idea."

"Your presence is becoming to grow tiresome," Emma mumbled, adding a bit of ketchup to her hamburger.

"Aw, look at you, even talking like him now."

"Just because I chose a hard vocabulary doesn't mean it's how he speaks."

"It's how he speaks."

"Ruby," she warned.

"Okay, I'll stop it," the brunette raised her hands in defeat. "But really, though, I heard Tinker Bell's pissed."

Emma just shrugged. "She started all this."

"I know, and it's why I love it."

About two minutes of silence passed before she could roll her eyes again.

"You two form a hot couple."

 

* * *

 

Marco was out for work and August was at his own party by the time Killian texted her he was coming. She messaged Marco goodnight and didn't even bother trying to reach August - he was distracted enough.

Stepping down the stairs, she stopped in front of the hall mirror to check if everything was okay. Hair, perfect - Ruby had made it -, make up - she tried her best -, dress - chosen by Mary Margaret - and expectations? High.

She jumped at the sound of the doorbell and turned off all the lights of the house before opening the door, blinking at the sight of Killian. He didn't even bother shaving or really doing much with his hair - was that even a surprise? -, but the suit suited him well. _Very well._

"You look stunning, Swan," he complimented, and she thanked it was dark enough to hide her blush - though his smirk might have meant he noticed it. _Damn him._

"Thanks, and you look..." She trailed off because she didn't know how to express it. _I don't think anyone could._

"I know," he grinned. _What a cocky bastard._ He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Yeah." She looped her hand through the crook of his elbow and let him lead the way to the truck that was waiting for them.

"It used to be my brother's," Killian told her as he helped her in. "He let me borrow it for the night."

"Wow, don't go _too_ wild," she piped with sarcasm.

He laughed humourlessly at her antiques and climbed in after, turning the ignition and driving off.

"You know, people think we're going out," he said after a few seconds.

"Yeah?"

He hummed. "Maybe it's because we're going together or maybe it's because people genuinely _want_ to believe that."

"Do you think Bell and Neal will notice us?," she asked.

"Trust me, darling, Neal _will_ notice you," he chuckled, and she smacked his arm. "Oi, I'm driving here."

"Then stop talking and focus on not getting us killed."

"I'm a _fantastic_ driver, Swan."

"Yeah, okay."

"No, I am."

"Just drive, Jones."

 

* * *

 

When he helped her out of the car ten minutes later, they could see tons of couples also arriving. Emma was relieved: attention was never her forte.

Killian himself took her hand and gently placed it on the crook of his arm again, and she raised an eyebrow at him. He just shrugged. ' _Play the part.' Oh, so he wants to pretend we're dating. Great._

As they entered the gymnasium, Emma focused more on the decorations than the people in there. It was pretty, she had to admit. But when Killian's arm squeezed her hand a bit, she looked down.

Right in their line of sight were Tinker Bell and Neal. All surrounded by friends - who probably followed them in their limo - laughing and drinking punch.

"They look _miserable_ ," Killian stated lowly next to her, and she couldn't help but laugh. He did know how to put her mood up. "I mean, that _cannot_ be a real laugh." He then pointed at her. " _This_ is real laugh. _That_  is acting. And a very poor one, if I'm to be the judge of it."

She tugged him towards the food table because she hadn't eaten dinner yet and was starving.

"So, Swan, what will your banquet be?"

"Some chips, probably. Though I saw some cheese rolls in the corner and I'm craving them," she said, completely serious.

"Make them extinct, love," he encouraged, and she rolled her eyes. She seemed to do that a lot around him.

 

* * *

 

They had managed to dance, laugh, talk, drink the _damn_ punch and Emma had truly forgotten Neal was there until she was coming back from the restroom - side note, don't _ever_ try to pee in a prom dress.

"So, you're already over me?"

 _Ugh, not now; everything was going so well._ "What?," she asked, stopping when he placed himself in front of her.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You came with Jones."

"Yeah. And you came with Bell. See how it works?" She could see he was angry and there was nothing as fun as poking that fire.

"Don't change the subject."

"I didn't change the subject, Neal, stop trying to be the victim here."

"I'm not trying to--"

"Yes, you _are_ ," she said calmly. She then sighed, a hand raising to put a strand of hair behind her ear. "Look, by choosing Bell over me, you've made it clear you don't want to be with me."

"Ems, I never said--"

"Oh, _please_ , you traded me for a limo," she snapped, making him finally shut up. "If that doesn't show you you don't care about me, then I honestly don't know what will."

She brushed past him, her eyes searching the crowd for Ruby to inform her her plan was working, but his hand on her arm stopped her from going any further.

"Please, can we just talk about this?"

"What is there to talk, Neal?," she said, not even near yelling, which was probably what scared him the most. She made sure to look more disappointed than sad or even angry. "You didn't even cheat on me and I felt betrayed."

"Oh, so you're saying that if Jones had told you he was coming in a limo, you wouldn't say yes to his invite?," he inquired in an accusing tone.

"That's _exactly_ what I'd do."

She turned her back, ignoring his calls and finally found Ruby flirting with Victor Whale, the surprisingly hot Science nerd. She started towards her, but her body bumped into a form that just appeared in front of her.

Killian's hands came to hold her arms, stabilising her before she could fall. "Oh, sorry, love. Oh, it's you, Swan," he greeted. "How's the night going?"

"I just _encountered_ Neal and I'm glad to inform you our plan is working," she told him, and only then did she realise his grasp on her was still firm.

"That's great, love," he exclaimed, and literally pulled her to a _hug_. She didn't know why, but she gathered it was important for his sudden decision, so she just hugged him back.

"What?," she whispered near his ear.

"Now _I_ saw Neal," he replied, making her chuckle.

"Well played, pirate."

"Pirate?"

"Don't pretend you're not obsessed with it; I saw your Pirates of the Caribbean themed notebook last Wednesday. Plus the chains."

"Very observant, Swan, congratulations," he teased, pulling away and smiling at her.

"Thanks. Now I have to inform Ruby that her plan's succeeded."

"I'll just grab us some punch, then."

 

* * *

 

The rest of the night went amazingly well; no more Neal, Killian told her he received a glare from Bell, but nothing more.

The next Monday, all people could do was talk about the prom.

And the first words Emma heard directly to her that morning and from Ruby's mouth. "You didn't tell me you kissed him!," she made her point by slamming the blonde's locker closed after she came behind it.

"I never kiss and tell. How did you find out anyway?"

"People are talking someone saw you two and your _smoochies_ near his car," she replied, crossing her arms and leaning against the lockers.

"What is your point?"

"My point, is that you should have _told_ me," Ruby whined.

"Fine, I'm sorry, it's just... I _think_ I might like him."

To be honest, Emma expected some kind of reaction. None came.

"Yes, honey, well done figuring that out. Any other news?"

"He asked me out and I said I'd think about it," Emma continued.

That elicited a reaction. Ruby gasped, jumping up and down. "Really?! Oh my god, you _have_ to say yes. You just told me you like him, so don't even try the 'it's not even that serious' card, cause I'm not buying it."

 _Ugh, Ruby..._ "I was actually going to talk to him during lunch. Where does he normally stay?," Emma asked genuinely. She could see the sparkle of excitement in her friends eye.

(He kissed her knuckles when she said yes and told her to meet him after class. Their date was ten minutes after they met at the front of the school.)

(Emma had to admit it was better than she thought it would be.)

(So, when he kissed her goodbye a few hours later, she was the one to dive in again by pulling him by the lapels of his jacket.)

(Because it felt _right_.)

(Because it _was_ right.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, in the adventure I went in search for a dress for Emma, I couldn't find any in the thousands of dresses Jen's worn that looked prom-like, so I just left that open to your imagination.


	59. Keep him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whop, another one. I feel like crap because I've seen so many great prompts and attempting to write for them and then this comes out and it's not based on any prompt or anything. It's annoying, my brain just doesn't work on prompts anymore. I just settled for the start and was like 'I hope this takes me somewhere'
> 
> By the way, how are y'all hanging with this start of hiatus? Keep on living, the cons period is coming. Though that sucks for me cause we're having a con in the city where I live and Colin, Lana, Sean and Bex are coming and I thought it wasn't gonna happen but it is and I feel terrible now. Goddamnit. Okay. At least I can focus more on the FT con in Paris and pretend no con is happening here. Hopefully.

**Keep him**

 

Emma used her key to enter the apartment, not bothering in being quiet despite the late hour.

"You know, Swan," she heard from the couch, his mop of black hair the only thing visible over the back rest. "You could knock."

"And you could also button the last _three buttons_ of your shirt," she replied, dropping her keys on the counter and opening the fridge, her stomach growling and her mind aiming for anything far from healthy. "But we both know that's not gonna happen."

She heard Killian chuckle and smirked when she found a _lasagna_ in the middle shelf. It was past midnight and she was going to devour a lasagna. Sue her.

"Why do you have a lasagna in your fridge?"

"Mary Margaret feared I could starve to death and brought it yesterday," he replied, his voice much closer. She looked over her shoulder to see him leaning on the doorframe.

"She's a great neighbour, isn't she?" She cut a piece of the lasagna, quickly scooping it into the plate she took from one of the cupboards.

"She says good morning to anything that breathes, volunteers at the hospital and picks up Granny's mail without her even asking," he listed, counting with his fingers. "She's not a great neighbour, she's an over-caring human being."

Emma snorted. She'd known Killian since she'd left the foster system - well, since the brief period she'd spent in jail _after_ she'd left the system, but anyway - and never lost contact. He was there for her when she broke her arm, when August travelled to Phuket and nearly died there, when her foster brother David nearly married that girl Kathryn at the age of 22 and when she broke down because of _Walsh_ \- she always mentally grimaced at the bastard's name.

Her relationship with David had been rather complicated: his mother Ruth having adopted her when she was 13; but, when she died a week after Emma's 16th birthday, both she and David were sent into the system. She'd ran away, he had waited - thus his rather successful career as an actual police officer whilst she pretended to be sweet or unintentionally seductive to make perps pay their bail money. _Convenient, right?_

Emma picked up a fork and a knife from the cutlery drawer after she heated the lasagna and took her plate to the dining table in the room next to the kitchen. She sat down, ignoring when Killian settled across from her, no plate, no cup, no sound. He watched her devour the dish, not looking up at him or making any moves to speak.

"Tough night?," he asked, and she finally looked up to see him with an eyebrow raised.

"I tripped on a _pebble_ and he got away," she muttered, angrily stabbing a piece of lasagna with the fork and tsking when it crumbled to pieces instead of remaining _intact_ for her to scoop it in her mouth.

"And that damaged your pride, I gather?" He was _smirking_ , the idiot.

"Kinda."

Killian hummed. "Oh, by the way," he shifted in his seat, straightening his spine from his slouched position. "Ruby called presuming you were here. You have to spend more time at your own apartment."

"Are you _kicking_ me out?," she asked indignantly.

"In no way, love, just making sure you don't _move_ here without your own consent."

"So you're not kicking me out _now_?"

"Bloody hell, I sometimes forget how stubborn you are," he mumbled. "No, Swan, I'm not kicking you out. Since you didn't text me with your usual report of the case, I assumed you were coming over because you just do that sort of thing. Your bed is ready," he added in a mocking voice.

"I don't need the bed to be _ready_ , Jones."

"On the contrary, love, you _require_  the bed to be ready. Otherwise you just fall over the covers or, you know, pass out on the couch." She knew he was referring to last Friday. Her neck ached for the whole weekend.

She grimaced at the memory, but didn't let her stance fall. "Why are you acting like my dad, that's David's job."

"Because Dave's on duty tonight, and you know that job is shared between the both of us," he joked.

She got up, taking her plate with her, and laid it in the sink, rinsing it and wiping her hands on a dish towel. "I don't need two dads, it's already stressful enough when at least one _is_ my age but _acts_ like he's the double of it."

Killian rolled his eyes, rubbing one of his eyes momentarily. "Just go to bed, Swan, I know you're exhausted."

Indeed she was. Her eyes felt sticky and her limbs were heavy. She pursed her lips at him, proceeding, then, to brush past him and out of the kitchen, down the hallway and into the spare room she used more than she would like to admit.

Killian's place had been her safe haven for years now. By far in better conditions than her own, it had more space and contained one of _the most important_ people in her life, which was _definitely_ an add up. She went there on drunken nights, when she broke down, when she felt too lonely, when she found something that belonged to Walsh in her apartment - it happened more often than she would like -, when she craved something she couldn't cook, when she missed his cooking, when she missed his TV, when she missed _him_.

She'd missed him a lot these past months. Maybe it was because it has nearly been a decade since... Well, since what _happened_ when she was in jail. Every year, he helped her go through the hell of that day. The day she thought her life would change, but then of course she ran away. She was Emma Swan, her middle name should be ' _run_ '. It was basically all she did and, even knowing that, she couldn't do anything to change it. She ran because she had to. She ran because she couldn't bear with the possibility of what could happen next. She ran because she had a history full of people letting her down and, when she ran, the chance of that happening would lower considerably. So she freaking _ran_.

Looking around the tidy room, she couldn't help but grin. The bed was indeed made, her favourite blanket neatly folded at the end of the bed and the windows and curtains already closed. The bedside lamp was on, giving the space a somber lighting, but it made Emma feel strangely at home.

_Home._

She opened the only drawer she had in the wardrobe, the emptiness of it making her heart clench because he could have _given_ it to her, but then she called him a traitor and he swore he wouldn't ever give it to her because of _that_. Taking out some flannel pants and a t-shirt, she quickly changed and threw her clothes on the nearby chair, falling on the bed and draping the blanked over her body, snuggling into the soft texture and closing her eyes.

She suddenly felt the mattress dip next to her hip and her eyes sprang open, and she scowled when she saw Killian fluffing the other pillow in the queen sized bed. " _No_."

He ignored her, dropping his head to the pillow and shuffling until he made himself comfortable. "You know, Swan," he started, his back to her. "You've fallen asleep on my bed _countless_ times; what is the problem in repaying the favour?"

"It's not a favour," she insisted, her foot nudging his fabric-clad calf out of the bed. He kept putting it back in place, _damn it_. "And it's not _my_ bed."

"For me it is, love. And you're the only person who sleeps here; _it's your bed._ Now hush, I'm trying to sleep. You should do the same."

He spent five minutes - maybe ten - in silence, before he shifted to face her. She was still awake, so she opened her eyes as soon as she felt his on her. "What?"

"Do you feel ashamed of your nightmares?," he asked simply, resting his head on his hand.

She immediately stiffened. "No," she lied. It sounded like a lie even to her. "Why?"

"Because when you have a nightmare, you don't come back for the next few days," he explained, and Emma could nearly not take the calculating glint in his blue - _very_ blue - eyes.

"That's not true," she frowns. _God_.

"Alas, it is," he smiled. But it was a sad smile, full of worry and concern. "Why would you fear my judgement, love? It's not coming. I've known you for too long to try to judge you on anything you do," he chuckled weakly, and she snuggled deeper into the pillow, her eyes focused on the graphic in the front of his worn t-shirt rather than his own eyes, the honestly in them too much for her, no matter how many times she might have stared into them. "Plus, the thing that anyone should be far from judging is someone's nightmares. Those personal, deep hells that no one can quite understand."

She hated when he understood her. When he understood _them_ , the nightmares. He might have thought he didn't, but she knew that, deep down, he _did_. Perfectly. "Why are you asking?"

"Because you can't sleep. Something happened today other than just losing a perp, didn't it?" His gaze boring into her, she felt trapped under it. She could hardly ever lie when he looked at her like that, head tilted, brows knitted. "And you're afraid you might have nightmares tonight."

"Killian, I don't--"

"Emma, whatever you do, don't _ever_ think I'm not here for you," he assured her, his hand darting for hers under the covers. He squeezed it, making her smile shakily, his thumb slowly and soothingly caressing her fingers.

She nodded, not trusting her words or her voice if she dared to utter one of them.

She never exactly knew how she felt about Killian. When she met him, she had taken him for the playboy who got all the girls and made sure to never call in the next morning and indeed, he had been that type of guy for a while. Until he stopped and Emma saw the Killian Jones inside of him, the one that was lying next to her that very moment. Despite her disgust, she did feel a certain attraction towards him she couldn't explain, and she only decided to interpret it when they _became_ friends. Her long study about their interactions and her feelings took her to a simply well though and successful friendship, the sort you formed in middle school and thought it was going to last _forever_. Their relationship had been the high point of that kind of friendship for nearly ten years now, and she had always ignored it.

She _chose_ to ignore his dashing looks, his striking personality and his successful life in general. She _chose_ to ignore how perfect he was to _everyone_ and decided to settle with the annoying friend she couldn't get truly tired of.

Of course that vision was a lie. An annoying friend wouldn't lie next to her and assure her they were there for her. Not even her brother had done that to her.

She was about to say something, _anything_ , but the lump in her throat felt nearly impossible to swallow down.

"Come on, Swan, just sleep," he told her with a more genuine smile, and she made eye contact for three more seconds before she closed her eyes.

She didn't sleep right away. She was still awake when she noticed his breathing even out, and it was only then she realised her hand was still in his, his grip gradually loosening until it was just resting over hers. She opened her fairly tired eyes, the image of him peacefully sleeping never failing to astound her. He looked much younger and carefree. It made her want to slowly and softly skim her fingertips all over his face.

The absence of the constant crease on his forehead really did make him look more tranquil; it made her want to soften the wrinkle when it was present, always remembering of his face as he slept and how she wished it would be like that all the time.

Despite his good life, Killian has always been somewhat fuzzy towards happiness. With a long term hate for his work colleague Mr Gold - she was yet to learn that man's first name - that was actually reciprocated, according to Killian himself, stressful Wednesday nights - it was when he left work late -, his constant wish to fix his boat and the inability to do it faster due a full schedule and poor skill, he maybe _had_ a reason to have that crease after all.

For a long time, Emma had considered David her best friend. But now, she didn't hesitate in stating that Killian there was her best friend. Her truest and most trustful friend. It wasn't hard, all she had to do was analyse the past few years and see he would go to great lengths for her.

With that last comforting thought in mind, she fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Emma woke up to the sound of shoes pacing against the wood of the floor. Keeping her eyes closed, she decided to shrug it off - because she was, after all, not alone in the apartment.

Until she felt Killian's arm behind her.

_Wait, then if he's here, then who's..._

Her eyes flew open with the possibility of a burglar, but, when she could finally see around her, she saw it was day through the shut curtains. Frowning, she sat up, tossing her legs out of the bed and standing up, careful not to wake Killian. Slowly outing the room, she walked down the hallway with careful steps, the sound increasing its volume until she bumped into Ruby.

Yes, _Ruby_ , the other friend who had Killian's spare key because of emergencies. _Of course._

Closing her eyes for a moment in a sigh, Emma rubbed the sleep out of her face. "Ruby--"

"Oh, so you're alive?," the other snapped, hands on hips.

"What?"

"Why do you even have a phone if you don't freaking _pick it up_ ," Ruby growled annoyed.

"Well, I'm sorry if my tiredness has affected you in any way," Emma sassed, not bothering in being nice to her friend because it was still eight o'clock and it was a Saturday and all she wanted was to sleep in. "Now, what do you want?"

"Just came to see if Killian knew anything of your whereabouts. But since he was also not answering his phone, I thought you two had, like, died or been gravely hurt, so I came over."

"It's eight in the morning."

"And we both know he's an early riser. I wonder what made him sleep in."

"Look, I don't know, Ruby, but I just want to go back to bed and and sleep in too," the blonde pleaded. "So, if you'd be willing to, I don't want you hovering over the house and raking through the stuff in here." She motioned for the front door and didn't wait a beat before turning around and padding to her - _the guest -_ room.

Unfortunately, Ruby followed. Not that it wasn't predictable. "Honestly, though, I've known him for _years_ and I don't remember him wak--" her voice stopped as soon as Emma dropped on the bed, eyes already closed, ready to sleep those five minutes off her mind.

She knew Ruby was standing in the doorway, and she also knew a series of questions would come her way.

But it didn't.

It took Ruby a full twenty seconds to huff out a laugh through her nose and walk back into the living room, leaving the apartment in record speed.

Emma frowned, eyelids still closed, not knowing what the hell had that been. _Oh well..._

 

* * *

 

The next time Emma woke up, she had more warmth around her. And she was too comfortable to even bother about it.

She didn't know what time it was. She knew she had nothing to do that day and that _whoa_ , Killian's arm was around her and she did not _dislike_ it.

Opening her eyes slowly, she noticed she was facing him now, and that his head was turned to the other side, but his left arm was draped around her waist as he lied on his stomach.

She wanted to stay like that, but she knew she couldn't. She knew it was just the fact it was only one bed and there was a lot of tension between them all the time, even though that tension was often masked by jokes, innuendos, deep talks and pregnant pauses. But it was there.

Emma turned in his arm, letting it fall a bit to her back, but it was _still there,_ and he stirred, as if trying to move a bit closer to her.

She stretched over to the bedside table to grab her phone, squinting when the too-bright screen made her eyes water. She saw eight missed calls from Ruby, two from David, one single call from Tink and a text from her brunette friend.

Knitting her eyebrows, she checked the message first.

It was a picture of her and Killian in bed, his arm bent and buried in her blonde hair, her body looking completely motionless in the picture as she lay on her side, her back to him.

She smiled lightly when she saw it, and shook her head slightly when she saw what Ruby sent next.

_Please stay like this forever_

_Emma Im serious_

_Invest in this like your life depends on it_

_Or else I'll owe Tink two hundred bucks_

_Invest in this in the next two months_

_We won't be able to go shopping_

_Emma Im more serious than ive ever been_

_Emma_

_Emma pay close attention_

_Keep this man forever_

Emma would think about it. She definitely would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And may the rest be speculated by that little head of yours. It was more like. Implied, deeper CS; I liked writing this.


	60. Misunderstanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me so long to finish, I'm not sure I even like it. I have like three other oneshots on the making and they're like unfinished and I sometimes forget stuff and I keep restarting new multi chapter AUs and then I delete them because it's a horrible idea to start a new one now and ugh.

**Misunderstanding**

 

Killian didn't think his flight would be on time. Probably because of the massive storm that washed over LA the night before, but mostly because _luck_ wasn't exactly in his list of traits.

As he waited for the gates to open, the ticket already in hand, he looked around at some of the people he would be sharing a plane with for seven hours. He saw a variety of clothing styles and looks.

He counted two groups of college kids, two complete families, three tired-looking businessmen, at least _seven_ children and one toddler, four women and six elderly.

When the gate opened, a calling sounding from the speakers, he was one of the first to get up, not wanting to get crammed in the now growing crowd that would certainly block his way.

Handing the ticked to the stewardess behind the counter with a quick smile, he fixed his backpack on his shoulder and strode down the long hall, his mind absently wondering if the sky was starred out there.

"Welcome," the hostess at the door of the plane greeted, motioning inside. "Have a nice flight."

"Thank you," he replied, walking down the aisle as his eyes raked the numbers and letters on the seats. _C23, C23, C23..._

He counted three people already settling in, and nodded at the sweet-looking old lady who was attempting to store her bag in the baggage compartment.

"Excuse me, dear," she spoke up when he dropped his own bag on his seat. "Could you lend me a hand, please?"

"Oh, of course." He easily stretched up and settled the small suitcase in the compartment, snapping the little door shut and flattening the front of his shirt when he rightened himself.

"Thank you, dear, that was very kind of you," the woman smiled at him, and he couldn't help but grin.

"You're very welcome." _Gentleman, after all._

He sat down, setting his bag at his feet and taking out his phone. Checking his messages, he wasn't exactly paying attention to the people around him, and only looked up when someone sat next to him. Or rather set something next to him.

The giggle came a second after, and he tried his best not to groan. _Of course_ the toddler would have to sit next to him. He turned his eyes to the person he would now loathe for seven hours, but all thoughts of the sort cleared from his mind when he saw the mother's golden hair and green eyes. He put a lot of effort into not gaping at the _angel_ who was now sitting next to him, handing the baby a - thankfully not-squeaky - toy as she readied for the trip.

He could see she came prepared, different than many of the parents he's travelled with. She had a bottle of milk; a bottle of water; other three toys; a bag with clean diapers, for what he could see; a children's book; and, of course, the classic Teddy Bear. For some reason, that made him like her even more.

That might have sounded shallow, but it wasn't just her looks that mesmerised Killian. The hardness in the woman's eyes reflected pain. She looked at her child with longing. He didn't know what, but something had _definitely_ happened.

He noticed he was overthinking it when the screen of his phone darkened and it blocked automatically. How long had he been staring at her?

Ten minutes of trying _not_ to look up passed by slowly, and finally - _finally_ \- the hostess announced the doors were being closed and they would take off in five minutes.

The blonde next to him - E Swan, according to the tag in her bag - started fastening the toddler's seatbelt, and Killian couldn't help but wonder why did she choose a flight so late in the evening. It was a bit past midnight now, so they could arrive at New York at around seven am. Killian chose that flight for the mere reason of not wanting to miss another workday.

He was also impressed at how calm the child was. All he'd done so far was giggling and fumbling with his toys, not even once crying or fussing. Alas, that could only mean all of that would come after the plane took off.

As in a cue of the thought, Killian felt the plane start moving, and could see through the window two seats down that indeed, they had started moving in the night. Fastening his own seatbelt just as Miss Swan did the same, he risked a glance at her and the boy. She couldn't look more unfazed, her fingers inspecting a tear in the Teddy Bear's leg. The boy was looking around curiously, his big green eyes settling on Killian for a moment before giggling and chewing his fingers.

When the plane started the take off, the baby stopped everything he was doing and looked out the window in the right corner of the plane. The pressure in Killian's chest tightened as the plane got faster and faster, until he didn't feel the bumpy ground beneath them anymore. They were on the air.

He nearly cracked up when he heard the far cries of a child a few rows ahead of him and another giggle from the toddler in his right. He couldn't avoid the smile, though.

 

* * *

 

After eating a weirdly warm frozen sandwich with frozen meat and frozen cheese at around three am, he put away his laptop where he had been watching a couple movies he'd downloaded weeks before and looked around. Most passengers had the head lights off and were sleeping or listening to music or watching the movie in the video display - was it _The Mummy_? -. He took off his headphones to find an incredibly quiet surrounding - except for, of course, the loud rumble of the plane itself -, the silence suddenly broken by a soft cooing from his right.

He smiled at the baby who was intently watching him, and couldn't help but steal a glance at his mother. She was asleep. Looking back at the child, he wrinkled his nose. Killian was glad to see a smile come to his round face.

Doing it again, it elicited a _giggle_. The dark haired then proceeded to twist his face in different ways, keeping the child entertained as his mother slept. At some point, the boy reached out one of his chubby hands and grabbed Killian's nose, making the older now chuckle quietly.

He probably shouldn't be doing it. He didn't know the lad _or_ his mother. Maybe she would wake up and snap at him assuming he'd want to steal her child, or murder them both. _Who knows?_ Maybe she was a paranoid.

He never raised a hand. He never touched the kid himself. He never reached out. He just did his best to keep the child distracted with his _face_.

After about half an hour, he saw the baby yawn. He'd once read babies followed older people examples, so he laid his head back. As he predicted, the toddler did the same. Killian started closing his eyes, but kept one narrowly opened. Indeed, the child closed his eyes. He opened his own again, and _yes_ , the little one opened his. He was a smart kid. And behaved too; they'd been in that flight for three hours now and he hadn't cried _once_.

His mother had already changed him for what Killian supposed was the night, but he wasn't sure. The only baby he'd truly acquainted with was his neighbour's little lass Grace, but he'd never spent an entire night with her to know how long did the diaper changing process take and how long it was between each change.

He closed his eyes again, for about thirty seconds now, and only opened them to reveal the lad _already_ asleep. With a silent sigh, he shifted in his seat, his own head lolling sideways as sudden exhaustion waved through him and he closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Killian woke up a couple hours later, and his first instinct was to check on the toddler. Still asleep, but his mother wasn't. She had apparently just started reading a book - he was pretty sure he read ' _It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife_ ' at the top of the page, but she turned it before he could check twice - and was far away from the world around her. He saw the baby, besides still asleep, had also changed positions, and he could also see a blanket had been put over him, confirming his mother had _tucked him to bed._

He didn't have much else to do, all movies already watched and all messages checked and all emails read and all productivity spent still at the airport. He didn't want to bother her, but right now he chose to be a bit selfish.

"Is that Pride and Prejudice?"

He saw her eyes deflect from the page and fix on the chair in front of her before they turned to him. "Yeah," she answered. "How do you know?," she frowned - _adorably_ -, showing him the hard leather cover of the book: it was a plain brown colour all over the cover, the small golden letters forming the words 'Pride and Prejudice' making it impossible for him to have seen it from his spot.

"The first page," he pointed. "' _It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of well fortune must be in want of a wife_ '," he quoted, and she gaped before checking the first sentence again.

"That's impressive."

"That's weird," he corrected, and was thoroughly delighted to see the smile that rose to her face. Her eyes now had the same glint as her son's. "I'm a nerd. It's not everyday you get bored enough to start reading a book you've read a million times and end up memorising random lines from it."

"But it's the first sentence in the whole book. That's _important_ ," she pointed at the now closed book, and he raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Aye." He held out a hand. "Killian Jones."

She eyed it for a moment before taking it. "Emma Swan." _Ah. E Swan. Emma._

"Tell me, Swan," he started, resting his left ankle on his right knee - or at least attempting to, the task showing to be difficult in the tight space. "Is the lad always this calm or is he abnormally quiet since you got here?"

"Nah, he's a weird kid," she looked at the sleeping boy with love in her eyes. "He doesn't cry in situations where it would be understandable to cry, like a plane taking off or fireworks; and does cry because of ridiculous things, like those lava lamps or far dog barks." She then smiled. "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me, that's for sure."

Killian himself smiled at the controversial statements, but he could see there was really no other description of your own child. Most things they do irritate you, and you still love them more than anything. He felt somewhat accomplished to have partially taken care of the boy while she slept, she looked like she needed some rest. Plus, it was three am.

"So, any other nerdy curiosities about you and Jane Austen?," she suddenly asked, and he huffed out a laugh.

"I'm often compared to Mr Darcy."

"What, initially an asshole who grows into the best character in the story because he was misunderstood?" She had an eyebrow raised in challenge, and he didn't even try to hide his smirk.

"That's precisely what they say." She rolled her eyes. "Plus, lass, I'm a dark haired man with blue eyes; can't be a coincidence," he winked, making her purse her lips.

He wouldn't lie, he felt extremely attracted to her already. Not just look-wise, but he felt a magnetism towards her that felt nearly impossible to ignore. It was like he needed to speak to her, just to hear her voice.

And so they spoke, about random things that popped in their heads and made each other laugh softly so the lad - Henry, he later found out - didn't wake up.

 

* * *

 

The last couple of hours passed quickly, Killian's heart clenching when they landed because he didn't want to _stop_. He didn't want to let her go and never see her again.

When she rose from her seat, bag in one shoulder and Henry's carrycot in the other, she looked at him expectantly, and his chest felt warm.

"Go ahead, love, I'll find you there," he assured, sending her a smile. She nodded and walked down the aisle, leaving the plane with a final glance at him.

He gathered his stuff, helping the lady behind him with her bag again and paced to the door in the front of the plane. He was one of the last people there, the space around him already empty.

" _Sir!_ "

He heard the calling and frowned, turning around to see a stewardess rushing behind him with a medium bag dangling from her outstretched hand.

"Sir, your wife left this behind," the woman informed, handing him the bag.

 _Wife?_ She was gone before he could think of correcting her.

Killian blinked, bemused, and checked the name tag. E Swan.

 

* * *

 

"Why did you take so long, did you fall or something?"

Baby Henry giggled, making Killian himself smile. He'd grown quite fond of the boy.

"No, I just helped an old lady with her bag," he replied, letting his eyes fall on the still unmoving baggage carousel.

"That's very sweet of you, Mr Jones, and no, the bags didn't come yet, in case you're wondering." She must have noticed where he was looking.

He hummed, glancing back at her. "Indeed, I've noticed. So, Swan, what do you suggest we do as we wait?"

"You could hand me my bag?"

He noticed he was still holding it. "Oh, yes." He did as she asked, not missing the little smile on her face. Maybe he was flushed. Maybe he wasn't. Sighing, he scratched behind his ear. Perhaps he could just go for the point.

She beat him for it. "Maybe I could give you my number and you could call me sometime." She saw how hesitant she was, as if she didn't do that often. Perhaps she didn't. He hoped she didn't.

What if she was married? His eyes travelled to her left hand. No ring. _Huh_.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Sounds good." He took off his phone and handed it to her, offering to take Henry's carrycot. After she typed her number in, she gave him his phone back and motioned to take the carrycot again. The look he gave her couldn't be clearer that he could carry it for her.

And she _let_ him.

 

* * *

 

They parted ways after Killian hauled a cab for her, handing her Henry and kissing her hand after her bag was put in the trunk.

"Until we meet again, love," he'd said, squeezing it for a moment before letting go. He'd set his eyes on Henry, who watched him with his green orbs wide and softly poked his belly, making the baby laugh. "I'm gonna miss you, lad. Don't cause much trouble."

And, with a final glance at the mother, he turned around.

 

* * *

 

Less than a week later, she texted him a picture of Henry, wearing a blue onesie and a big smile on his face, baby food all over his lips, cheeks and clothes.

Below it, as a grin spread across his face, he read:

_He just said 'love' for the first time and if it was because of you I will hunt you down_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idek anymore tbh
> 
> Btw, I'm so glad the drought of content will be oVER IN A WEEK BECAUSE CON SEASON IS COMING AND WE'LL HAVE A CS PANEL _WITH MEGHAN_ AT FAIRY TALE KILL ME.


	61. I'm back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, so, it's being really hard taking the words out lately, but I had a little breakdown earlier today - I'm great right now, don't worry, I've raked through the puppy tag on Tumblr and I'm back to my old self - - also captAIN SWAN THAT CONVENTION WAS GOLD IM DYING FOR SDCC -, and it inspired me to make this chapter, that just, like, _flew out_.
> 
> By the way, for all of those who read The New One, the story _has not been abandoned_. My muse's just not very fond of the episode next chapter's about and it's being hell to write it. Don't worry, it'll come around. 
> 
> Oh, and my insatiable mind apparently sees CS in everything, so guess who has other two AUs in the making yay me its me well done that was hard wasnt it

**I'm back**

 

It was their first _actual_ Sunday family lunch in years. She'd come back into town after the thorough _disaster_ that living in New York was - yes, partly because of Walsh, the ultimate asshole; and also because of the _noise_. A big city with so many people in it... It made her feel _lonely_.

So she came back to Storybrooke, not having to wait two minutes before her parents were offering her old room back as a place to stay until she could find somewhere definitive.

They were all silent, her parents, her little brother Leo - in his _glorious_ fourteen years of age, she was glad he didn't enter the _don't-talk-to-me-in-public-or-you're-gonna-embarrass-me_ phase of adolescence. _Yet_ \- and her mother's two best friends, without counting, of course, Emma's cousin and previous best friend Ruby.

She and Ruby in her teenage years were not exactly the cause of trouble, but the brunette pulled a trick every now and then that made their mothers go insane for a little while.

Sure, she'd had other friends, like Tink or Killian or August, but all their contact disappeared after she moved.

In a small town like Storybrooke, you either have few friends or you're acquainted with everyone. Her father being the town's sheriff, Emma was the _opposite_ of what anyone would expect a daughter of a sheriff would be like: she wasn't a spoiled brat, did _not_ make friends with anyone, and wasn't friends with _everyone_ in the town.

Specially now, after so long without stepping into the town line, she was more like a stranger to everyone than the _old_ Emma Swan.

As soon as the silence at the table was gone, replaced by questions and _more_ questions coming from all sides, overwhelming her and suffocating her, she _couldn't_.

Emma ran. Jumping up from her seat, watching not to hit her head against Ruby's, who sat right next to her, leaned over so she could ask _private_ stuff - _yes_ -, she sprinted outside, the cool air of late fall hitting her face in a way that did not calm her as she anticipated. She forced her legs to walk as _fast_ and as _far_ away from the perfect big house her parents had, passing by that _white picket fence_ that had her grimacing the minute she saw it and kicking a pebble on the way, making it go straight into a bush.

 _Everything_ was coming back to her, for some reason. Everything since Neal was springing its way into her mind and making her want to cry. Her throat aching, she didn't even see where she was going or how fast she was going; her vision was blurry and the faces of people who had left her all through her life flashing before her eyes.

She was grateful she didn't trip anywhere and fall, because she didn't know if she would manage to get up. The fact that she didn't hear anyone behind her made her angry; _yes_ , they should know better than following her because she would only snap, but her family didn't exactly follow logic. She felt _lonely_ all over again, only this time was worse because she _knew_ this was supposed to be a solution.

She also didn't know why she felt like this. Why she felt like she was suffocating, why she wanted to cry or why she couldn't stay in there. Why was she panicking? _Nothing to be panicking over._

Maybe she was being stupid. Maybe they _were_ right in not following her.

Dropping on a park bench she suddenly found herself near to, she tucked one leg under her and rested her elbows on her knees, the heels of her hands digging into her closed lids in a weak attempt to calm down.

 _Deep breaths, Emma, deep breaths_. She tried to regulate her breathing, the task showing to be a bit hard when the biting cold around her made its way into her nostrils. She wanted to be warm and cozy and near a fire, but she didn't want to be in the only place that could properly provide her that.

She heard far laughter coming from her left, and didn't even bother looking up because it was probably just someone else in the perfect _ridiculously_ small town having fun on a normal Sunday. She could hear their footsteps, the buzz of conversation and could almost feel disgust in how happy it all sounded.

Suddenly, they stopped. "Emma?"

 _What? Who...?_ She decided to finally look up, right as a man - she knew those eyes - crouched in front of her and made a little sign over his shoulder for the other three guys that were walking with him to continue walking.

And then... " _Jones_ ," she recognised, furrowing her brow at him as she discreetly - _hopefully_ \- inspected his whole reformed look.

He wasn't that gangly teenager she'd once known. His arms weren't skinny anymore, his cheeks fuller and way less gaunt than it was, a very, _very_ attractive stubble covering his jaw. However, some of his old aspects remained, like the dark bed hair, the thick eyebrows, the blue - _wow, very blue._ She missed that tone of blue - of his eyes, now shining with worry.

He sent her a quick little smile. "Aye, love." His hands had settled on her arms, lightly squeezing as in search of reaction. "What are you doing out in the cold without a jacket; you must be freezing," he scolded, his brow furrowed.

"I... Had a little problem. I just ran," she summed up breathily, maybe from the cold, maybe from how close his face was. She needed to pull back a bit. Doing so, she was not exactly glad he was taking off his leather jacket - since when did _Killian Jones_ wear leather? - and resting it on her shoulders, but she couldn't help but pull it tighter around her body, the warmth it provided making her own body betray her.

"Forgive me for prying, love, but might I know what problem made you _run_ outside?," he asked, resuming his position crouched in front of her, his hands holding the coat closed in front of her torso.

"I... Well, I came back on Friday," she started, looking down at where his hands lay in a bigger attempt at avoiding eye contact. "And the family's being a bit... Overbearing."

"Ah," he uttered, and rose from his spot, sitting down next to her - _and taking those damn hands with him_. "You went to New York, right?"

"Yeah," she replied. "It was fine... Well, at the start. Then it all became a bit overwhelming and I had to leave."

He hummed. "So are you staying for good?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe. I have to find a place to stay, though."

"I heard Archie Hopper's selling a place by the docks, you should look it up, love," he recommended, and she couldn't help but feel _grateful_. After more than _nine years_ without even speaking to each other, despite how close they had been during high school, he still helped her. He was the first didn't even hesitate in suggesting it, and she'd stayed with her parents for _three_ days.

She looked over at him, tilting her head. She nearly got lost in his eyes, something she'd always done for no reason at all - sometimes she would just need to calm down and she would suggest a staring contest to mask her wish to just gaze into those _ridiculously_ blue orbs of his. "Thank you," she spoke softly.

He smiled. "No problem."

 

* * *

 

They kept talking on the bench until early evening, sometimes getting up to buy a pretzel or throw some pebbles at the water, but always ending up there. The seat overlooked a pond surrounded by trees, one of her favourite places to go during her whole life. Besides beautiful, it was calm and still, yet it _radiated_ life.

She'd told Killian about New York, he'd updated her on what had happened in that decade she was away.

"Granny still has that diner," he was telling her at one point. He sighed. "I pity the other restaurants in this town."

"I made a good friend there," she informed him. "A girl called Elsa. She's nice, I actually haven't called her since I left. She might kill me."

"Victor Whale became a _doctor_ , believe it or not," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "That man nearly didn't pass in Chemistry and is the head doctor at the hospital."

"Ruby told me they're getting married in a near future, is that true?," she questions, and watches him chuckle.

"Aye, it's true. Though I'm not exactly sure where we would hold a wedding reception in Storybrooke. It's not like they're doing it in the _Town Hall_."

"So, how've _you_ been?," she asked after a pause filled with comfortable silence.

"How have _I_ been?," he repeated, and she smiled at the pond. "Things have been nice. I tried the music thing, didn't really work."

"Why? You played and sang so well in high school!" She was actually shocked.

He just shrugged. "I don't know, I just felt like there was something missing, so I didn't really feel as comfortable as I wished I could be, so I ended up quitting it."

"What, so you don't play anymore?"

"Oh, no, love, I do play. I even compose a bit, but it's not something I'd pursue professionally."

"Very inspiring, Jones."

 

* * *

 

He walked her home when the sun set down. They got to the front of her parents' house, but she didn't invite him in.

"That was a nice afternoon, Killian," she started. "Thank you for distracting me from a miserable experience."

He grinned in response. "You're welcome, love. Feel free to ask for my assistance any time you need."

"Oh," she suddenly remembered, letting his coat slide form her arms and handing it back to him. "Thank you for the jacket too."

"Glad I could... _Inflict some warmth_ ," he winked, and she rolled her eyes. She remembered him entering his flirty phase right before she made the decision to leave town, eighteen year-old Kilian getting into the process of gaining some weight and muscle. She remembered how hard he was trying to not look like a loser.

His efforts weren't in vain, that was for sure.

Through that day, Emma found a new side of him. Sure, she could still see the teenage Killian inside of him, that shy part with the nervous tick of scratching behind his ear, but she also discovered the flirty, winky part, the Captain Innuendo inside of him whose approaches made her roll her eyes and her heart skip a beat.

Maybe she hadn't admitted to herself she had feelings for one of her closest friends when they were sixteen, but now she would be happy to admit that to herself.

She was tempted to press her lips to his cheek in a goodbye gesture, but she settled for it being way too blunt for her emotional state right now, so she rested her palm on his arm and bid him goodnight, not looking back when she started walking to the house. Not even when she heard his late ' _goodnight_ ' behind her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY I have a question that's been nagging in the back of my kind for days and only now was I able to post a chapter and ask y'all. 
> 
> When you think about Timeless, this collection, what's the first of my screenshots that come to your head? If it changes every time, which one comes the most often?
> 
> I was really curious about this and im like dying


	62. Grocery store

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was quicker than usual. Guys. Do you know how agonising it is to know Colin, Lana, Sean and Bex are stepping in the saME STEPS IVE STEPPED MY ENTIRE LIFE AND NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE THEM ONCE.

**Grocery store**

 

_No, no, no, no, no, not again._

She looked around, walking quickly through the aisles and cursed inwardly. Of course; she should have learned by now to not bring her little brother to the grocery store because he would _wander off._

He was there less than thirty seconds ago and suddenly _poof_. Gone. All sorts of thoughts haunted her mind as she desperately looked for him. _Maybe he got kidnapped. Maybe he left the store and got run over by a truck. Maybe he's lost in here and they'll close the store and he's starve to death._

She knew calling him would cause nothing but the irritation of the other customers - _damned be the relatively big grocery stores_ -, so all she could do was try to hide her fear and look for him the best she could.

The day had started off well enough, her parents having to go out for the day to meet some important people and talk about the house they were buying, leaving her alone to take care of her seven year old brother.

When Emma told her occasional new friends that she had a seven year old brother at the age of twenty, she could hardly ever make them believe that her parents got married early, had her early and were still together. So either ' _one of them was adopted or her mother had been a teen mothe_ r'.

_Much like you almost became._

_Shut up._

Shaking her head softly, she pushed that thought out of her mind. It was _not_ the right time to think about that.

The worst part of it all was that it wasn't the first time that happened. It would always be in the movies or in some mega store with a toys section or even some park with a cotton candy stand. So it was always fairly easy to find him, but how the _hell_ was she supposed to find Leo in a _grocery store_?!

 _Like that, apparently_ , she thought when she rounded a corner and saw him. His mop of caramel coloured hair bouncing on his head as he bounced up and down himself, talking animatedly with a man. _A man._ Why was he talking to a man, he knew their mom would always freak out when that ahappened.

The man himself didn't even look really focused on what he was saying, carefully taking things from the shelves an placing the chosen items in his basket, occasionally glancing down at Leo and nodding, a little smile coming to his - honestly, very much _ridiculously_ handsome - face. After almost twenty seconds of blunt staring, she couldn't take it anymore.

" _Leo_ ," she called, striding towards him and pursing her lips when he turned around, big clueless grin on his face as he looked at her, eyes full of energy.

"Emma!," he exclaimed, leaping towards her and dropping a box of Lucky Charms in her basket. "This is Killian, he said he used to study at your old school."

"Leo, _everyone_ here used to study at my old school, there's only one."

Besides his momentary frown, his stance didn't waver. "Okay, fine, you got me on that one."

"You shouldn't disappear like that," Emma told him, taking the cereal and placing it back on the shelf. The kid looked like he was in a sugar rush when he actually wasn't; he didn't need to actually be in one.

"But I didn't leave the store, so that's okay," he implied, not-so-subtly eyeing the box and softly glaring at her.

"You know mom'll freak out when I tell her you walked off, right?," she asked him, unimpressed.

His bouncing stopped in less than a second, his face falling. "You're not gonna tell her, are you?"

"I don't know, Leo, maybe I will." She knows blackmailing a seven year old is low, but he did the same to her. " _Unless_ ," she continued, and she saw he perked up. "Unless you promise not to do it again."

His grin was back in a beat. "I promise!"

She heard a chuckle and nearly jumped off herself. Looking up, Emma remembered the man was still there, his back partially to them as he read the label of a can. "Thank you for not letting him leave the store."

He looked up, turning around fully, and yep, Emma could definitely get lost in his blue eyes, _easily_. _Focus_.

He smirked, shrugging. "It was no problem, he's a good lad." _Great, an accent. Just what I needed right now._

She sent him a tight lipped smile, nodding shortly and motioning for Leo to go ahead to the cashier, following him right after.

"Uh, lass--," she heard behind her, and turned her head. The blue eyed man with the dark hair and scruff scratched a spot behind his ear, eyes adverting from hers for a second before returning. "I didn't catch your name."

 _That's because I didn't give it. Should I, should I, should I?_  "Emma." _Damn it_. "Emma Swan."

He grinned - genuinely, something rare amongst the guys she'd met so far - and his shoulders relaxed. "Well, see you around, Swan." And, with that, he turned around, rousing the corner of the aisle and disappearing from their views.

"Why do you do that?"

Emma looked down at Leo, who was gazing confusingly at her. "Do what?"

"Make all the guys you meet either smitten or absolutely scared of you."

She wouldn't say she blushed, but she definitely did.

 

* * *

 

" _Emma!_ "

She looked up from her book, Leo's cheerful voice already making her grimace. _This cannot be good. Let it not be a lizard, let it not be a lizard..._

"Look who I found!," he said as soon as he reached her, slightly breathless, and pointed at an approaching form.

She recognised the swagger in his pace, the very blue eyes and the leather jacket from weeks before. It's not like she hadn't seen him around town - Storybrooke wasn't exactly big -. Quite the contrary, actually: even before Leo had found him at the store, she'd seen him around at the park, at the docks, at Granny's, even at Marco's once.

She didn't even know exactly when was the first time she saw him. It was like, before she could even notice, he was already there.

She didn't know who he was, or what he was, but _yeah_ , shoot her for eyeing him.

The first time she'd actually been caught staring hadn't even been by him, but actually by Ruby.

"Go for it, sister," she'd said from behind the counter when Emma discreetly looked over her shoulder to the man perched up on the farthest stool. "I give you full permit pass."

"What is that supposed to mean?," Emma had asked, and the brunette had only winked, leaving her to get an order.

Since then, she'd simply stopped caring about him. It's not like he was special to her or anything, no matter how hard Ruby protested. He was just someone else in the dull crowd of Storybrooke.

However, since she actually met him, she had to admit he popped into her mind once or twice. A day. She didn't dare mentioning anything about it to Ruby, though. She knew her friend and how much of a matchmaking _monster_ she would become.

Leo watched eagerly as Killian walked - _swaggered_ \- to them, and quickly grasped his arm as soon as he was into reach zone. "You sit here," he informed, roughly - well, as roughly as a seven year old can against an apparently muscular adult - pulling Killian down next to her, forcing her to suddenly leap sideways to avoid being sat on. _Jesus, Leo_. "Now," he suddenly turned to Emma, "I'll play with Roland."

Emma watched as he ran off, a frown marring her forehead as she tried to understand the reason of her brother's sudden freakout bursts.

"Well, love," Killian said, sighing. "I have a slight impression your brother is trying to set us up."

She was tempted to laugh of it all, but she couldn't. "Yeah, sorry about that," she studied the curious format of a tree next to where Leo and his friend were.

"Nah, it's fine," he assured her, and she could feel his eyes on the side of her head. "He does look like a good lad," he repeated his words from two weeks before and why did she even still remember that?

"He is," she said softly. "And I honestly don't know why he's doing this; this is normally Ruby's job."

"The lass at Granny's?," he asked, and that's when she turned her head. She'd meant that more to herself than to him.

"Yeah."

His eyes filled with understanding and _why do I have a bad feeling about this?_ "Ah, suddenly it makes a lot more sense."

"Oh god, what happened?," she questioned, turning slightly in her spot so she could brace herself for the bomb he would drop.

"It's just that the other night I was having dinner there and she just came up to me pretending to wipe a spot on the counter and said ' _watch out for the blonde one_ '." He raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that would be you."

 _Boom. Dead Ruby_. Emma raised a hand to rub one of her eyes - well, _hello there_ , anti-smudge mascara Elsa had spent a lot of money on. " _Ugh_ , of _course_ , that was predictable."

He chuckled, and she pretended it didn't affect her. "Your brother should pay more attention to those swings."

The sudden change of subject made her look up and see Leo defyingly staring at them, as if daring one of them to walk off. "He seems pretty adamant something happens."

"Since he insists, may I buy you a cup of coffee, Swan?"

She snaps her look back to him and raises an eyebrow. "Really?" He nods, a smirk on his lips. "Because a _seven year old_ is pushing you?"

"Well, maybe just a tiny part of it is because of him."

"And the rest is because of Ruby?," she guessed jokingly, not managing to avoid the tiny smile that crept up to her face.

"The rest is because you are lovely and the weather is cold."

She blinked at him because was he serious? Hesitating, she took about fifteen seconds to actually reply. "I don't know. I barely know you."

"That's the point, love, I was planning om changing that over coffee."

She thought a bit more and suddenly all she could think was related to ' _oh, what the hell_ '. "Fine."

"Really?" He looked excited and hopeful and an awful lot like a puppy. He should win an award for how quickly he managed to drop the smoulder.

"Yeah, it's not like I'm ever gonna hear the end of it, so why not over coffee?" She still didn't know if she was going to regret it or not. "I'm not bringing Leo, by the way."

"I'd have no problem."

"I'm not."

"As you wish."

She hoped she wasn't.

 

* * *

 

She didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy with how fast I wrote this. Maybe insomnia is the best time to write. And also, insomnia is impossible to type fast without misspelling something.
> 
> It's also my mother's birthday, which means pizza night. This is apparently important info in my life. I'm sorry, it's 3 am. 
> 
> And hey hey hey I'm really curious about what story first comes to your mind when you think I this collection thanks


	63. Be my Valentine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After more than ten days without even touching my notes, I decided I should try writing again and this came out. I just spent a long long time reading one single fanfiction, and I can't believe I'm finally ready to write again. I hadn't written _a word_ in more than a week and then BOOM, this suddenly came at 3 am. Maybe 2. I just know it's very very late. However, my winter break is here and maybe, if Tumblr doesn't suck me into the vortex it is or if I don't get too hooked on some TV shows I should watch, I'll write loads more.

**Be my Valentine?**

Killian was the first to arrive, as usual. Not that he was early, but rather right on time. And he should have known by now that no social gathering required punctuality.

Looking around the place as he took a seat on one of the stools of the fancy restaurant, he noticed the place's night was just beginning. Maybe it was just his annoyed mind, but, to him, it felt as if people - _couples_ \- came in _every five seconds_. He was still to decide which part irritated him the most: the fact that they were all couples or the fact his friends were late.

Sure, it had seemed to be a great idea as soon as Will had suggested it: going out on Valentine's Day with the gang since they didn't have a date. Suddenly, people started piping in, comments of agreement and reprehension being thrown from one side to another like balls. It was settled that Will, Robin - Regina was out of town with Roland and the man felt too alone -, Walsh, Victor, August and, _yes_ , Killian, would meet at that very restaurant to get the night started with a bit of class, then they would all head to the Rabbit Hole - not to ' _drown their sorrows in endless glasses of alcohol_ ' as Robin had accused the others of doing; Killian refused to lose his dignity like that. Or, well, refused to lose it again. Not after the Milah incident - after an hour or two.

He'd been warned by Victor to clean up nicely, because apparently that helped 'picking up chicks', and he would be lying if he didn't say he felt like an old man when the term sounded _wrong_. Call him a hopeless romantic, but, even though he had his one-night flings, it wasn't like he fed girls' hopes up then left them hanging dry. _Bad form._

Focusing all his energy on trying to stop his knee from eagerly bouncing up and down, he licked his lips, nervous all of a sudden. He didn't want to be surrounded by happy couples eating their dinner, completely unaware of their surroundings, at least not without someone there next to him. He hadn't properly been with anyone since Milah left him for her own selfish reasons, even if her excuses were that she was doing it to fix _them_. He never quite figured out what the hell that had meant.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he saw Robin stride in through the door, a little wave following his raised eyebrows at Killian.

"Evening, mate," the man greeted, and the dark haired nodded in acknowledgement. "Why the long face?" Killian needed to call him out on the too many children's TV shows he happened to be watching.

He just sighed. "It's nothing."

His friend only sent him a wary look, settling beside him by the empty counter.

They made a little small talk as they waited, grinning gladly when the rest of the men arrived together.

"At last, it took you forever," Killian complained, albeit smirking.

"Relax, Jones, it's not like I'm your boyfriend," Victor quipped, earning a punch to the shoulder.

They spent about half an hour lounging at the bar and talking over a few drinks. Walsh was telling another tedious tale about a monkey from the zoo he worked at when Killian decided to look around again, not surprised to see the room almost the same as before. However, he did notice something new.

 _Someone_.

He honestly didn't have a clue of how he hadn't noted her before, cascading blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders and down her back, emerald green eyes darting around the room, lingering on the door more than once. Her hands were fidgeting, and he couldn't help but frown slightly.

He noticed the voice speaking change and caught only a sentence of August's own tale about the school he recently started working at - something about another teacher. He called the woman ' _shady_ ' - before going back to the woman.

She was alone.

How and why would anyone ditch her? Even if they didn't really know her yet, her appearance would definitely be an incentive to make whichever person who'd agreed meeting her there get up from their couch and have dinner with her.

Alright, he wasn't sure about her personality because of the murdering looks she kept throwing at the manager - who was, honestly, responding with just as much poison in his eyes - and because he didn't know her at all.

Despite going back to his previous conversation, he couldn't help but glance at her from time to time, wondering who was her date, why hadn't they arrived yet, why did he feel so connected to her. It all went away again after one of his mates called him.

"You should stop staring," August muttered to him discreetly, taking a sip of his whiskey and glancing down at it.

"You should stop intruding," he was quick to answer, still not fully glancing away from her. He wondered what was her name.

"Seriously, she's gonna notice it at some point."

"And until she does you should stop intruding."

He knew what he was both doing and saying was childish and odd, but it wasn't a crime, was it?

What was even happening to him tonight?

He lifted his head when he saw the manager walking up to her purposefully, opening his mouth to speak - probably to kick her out. She had been there for a while and, counting how the restaurant was full, no doubt there was a line outside. The woman, however, interrupted him.

"Just five more minutes, please, my date must be running late," he heard her plead, and raised an eyebrow as the man considered her request. When he sighed, Killian couldn't help but do the same.

Even though he could see her relief, she was still unquiet, fidgeting with the cutlery, with the napkin, with the empty glass of water.

It was almost painful to watch her, specially when she suddenly took out her phone and paused before pressing something on the screen. Maybe she was debating wether to call her date or not.

She settled for a text message, he noticed, when her shoulders tensed and she typed something in. He didn't exactly feel pity, but rather sadness when she quickly tucked the device away as soon as she finished.

He was observing her fingers drumming against the table when he felt a hand clap his shoulder. As if waking up from a dream, he blinked up to see Robin raising an eyebrow at him. "Killian? You really alright, mate?"

"Just fine," he tried to sound nonchalant. He failed, apparently.

"We're heading to the Rabbit Hole, Jones," Walsh said, and he fought the urge to grimace at the man's tone. Walsh was more of an acquaintance than a friend, meeting him through Robin and rarely talking to him. He wasn't exactly boring, he radiated tediousness like body heat, and Killian could never keep a proper conversation with him. He stopped trying after a while, settling on only tolerating the zoo keeper.

Killian spared the woman one last glance before following them to the door, resisting the need to look again and walking out. It felt like leaving something _unfinished_ , and he wasn't sure he liked that feeling.

They hadn't even given three steps when the dark haired stopped, his mind racing between two possibilities.

"Jones?," he heard Whale's faint call, but he was too wrapped up in his thoughts and why was that even happening?

In a split second, he made his decision. "You all go, I'll meet you tomorrow at the bar."

"What, why?," August asked, but Will just tsked.

"The bastard's probably just found a hot date. Let him be."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, then," Victor added, already turning around to keep walking.

"Nothing, you mean?," Killian asked back, and the blonde man just shrugged. He couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's antics.

He rushed back into the restaurant without sparing the manager - who was already walking to the blonde woman's table again - a look besides the - rather cheeky - tap on the back. He didn't falter as he approached her table, and he had to admit he found the confused look adorning her face when he sat down rather adorable.

"Don't worry, love, I'm not here to ruin your night or anything of the sorts," he quickly said before she could utter a word. "Just wait until _dear manager_ there shoos away," he clarified, tipping his head towards the stilled man a few feet from them.

He saw her eyes move past his shoulder and comprehension filling her features. He could have sworn he saw a shadow of gratitude pass across her face, but he could have just imagined it.

After about a minute in silence, he watched as her shoulders dropped and she fixed him with her gaze. "Who are you?"

He rested back, eyes never leaving her. "Killian Jones. And, in case you're wondering, no, I am not a creep. I saw you and thought you could use a little help."

"And that's not creeping?," she asked, her forearms resting on the table, as if ready to grasp anything in front of her and throw at him when she needed to.

"No, not really," he grinned, scratching behind his ear. "I was by the bar, and you happened to be the only person here without a date." He sort of regretted his statement not a second later, when her eyes turned sad. "Which led me to wonder why would anyone set you up like this."

He had to admit, she was even prettier from up close. He didn't even try to hide his interest in her, despite his true wishes to just aid her.

"What do you mean?"

"It's Valentine's Day," he shrugged. "Besides being the ideal night for a date, I find it rather impossible to even hesitate upon a night out with you."

Oh, he was flirting; shoot him. He was still trying to figure out if the look on her face was amused or bemused when she tilted her head.

"Why?"

"Why what, love?"

"Why help me?," she explained. "You don't even know me."

"I know what it's like to be let down," he said, his eyes darting away from hers.

He raised them again when he heard her scoff. " _You_ were ditched?"

"Not today. But I have been." Not that he would call Milah leaving a ditching, but she didn't need to know that. "You haven't told me your name," he mused, more of an aloud thought than a request.

She took it as the latter, despite hesitating. "Emma. Emma Swan."

"Now, Swan, will you accept my wish to aid you and pretend to be your date to strangers' eyes for the night, or will you grab that knife and pin my hand to the table before storming off?"

He was rather satisfied at the little smile that sentence brought to her lips.

 

* * *

 

"So this was supposed to be a blind date?," he asked her, picking off a tiny leaf of basil from his pasta with his fork and placing it on the corner of the plate.

"I can't believe you're picking off the basil," she mused, scowling down at his hands and shaking her head softly. "And yes," she continued, looking up. "It was. Until you came on."

"I bet my company is far better than whatever bastard's you planned a to dine with."

"Or no company at all," she muttered with a humourless chuckle. He tilted his head at her.

"Hey," he called out, and she lifted her head with and eyebrow raised. "Don't worry about that now. I mean, you can worry about that later, but too much worry gives you indigestion," he concluded, pointing his fork at her.

He had to smile at her laugh - it was beautiful. _She_ was beautiful. "Oh my god, I also can't believe _you_ believe that kind of stuff, like eating then going swimming makes you puke and 'too much worry gives you indigestion'."

"Can't say no to science, Swan," he protested.

"That's not science, it's urban legend."

He chuckled, but stopped talking, resuming the task at hand.

"My brother used to say," he said before he could think too much I about it, a memory engulfing him, "that, no matter how hard society tries, there will always be that one group of people who just doesn't believe anything they say."

"And your point is that I'm part of the Skeptics?," she asked after chewing for a bit.

"I was actually going to leave that fact there and hope you made whatever decisions you had towards it." Maybe he was making sense, maybe he wasn't. He didn't know if he hoped she would understand. Emma, however, just raised a brow, and Killian saw a trace of something on her face; as if she wanted to tell him something. He decided not to push.

 

* * *

 

He literally had to insist and nearly wrestle for the check when it arrived, but managed to convince Emma to let him pay for the both of them. Despite her clear pushing away, it had felt like an actual date for him. Perhaps it had been.

As they exited the establishment, Killian dug his hands into his pockets, falling into step beside her. She had told him she lived nearby, so he decided to walk her to her building, only deep inside hoping for at least the apartment door.

"So, Swan, you never told me who set you up," he brought up, and she shrugged.

"I didn't really know him," she confessed, though it didn't really say much, since she had already told him-- "It was supposed to be a blind date. A friend of mine, Ruby, who settled everything for tonight, wouldn't stop nagging, so I just gave in. At least it wasn't a total failure," she teased, and he looked down at her, sure his face was marred by an awestruck expression. She was truly amazing, brilliant. He might have told her that already, though, consciously or not.

"You do know how to put a man on the edge, Swan," he informed her, getting an inch closer to her, but still careful for their shoulders not to brush. From the brief hours he'd spent with her, he'd managed to read her and learn her manners and tastes. Not many, but enough. Including the fact that Emma Swan didn't appreciate conflict or rush. "I didn't really know what to expect from you."

"I suppose that's a good thing?," she asked, not looking at her. He agreed.

"So, love, what's the poor bastard's name?"

"Walsh, I think."

That made him halt his steps.

"What's wrong?"

"I...," he narrowed his eyes at the lamppost. "I believe I know that poor bastard."

"What?," she asked quickly, settling in front of him as he scrambled for his phone in his pants' pocket. "Come on, there must have a bunch of Walshs around here."

"Oh, I don't know, Swan, maybe non as ridiculous as this one." He searched through his contacts list and was surprised - _glad_ , but surprised - to find Walsh's number there. Pressing it, he brought the phone to his ear.

"What are you doi--," she started, but he shushed her. He tried not to smirk at the way she pursed her lips and crossed her arms in front of her chest. It had been difficult not to notice her outfit as the night passed, the sleeveless leather dress - _leather dress_ \- that hugged her body just right and ended by the middle of her thighs. It didn't help the night was warmer than they'd anticipated, so she didn't put her wine coloured coat on, holding it in her hands instead.

He snapped out of his Emma Swan filled haze when Walsh picked up. " _Hello?_ "

"Evening, Walsh," Killian greeted, wanting nothing more than to hung up.

" _Um, Jones?_ " He sounded confused. To be fair, he should be. " _What do you want?_ "

He could hear the low music and voices in the other end, so he assumed Walsh was still at the Rabbit Hole. "I actually just bumped into your friend Ruby," Killian improvised, and held back a chuckle at Emma's surprised expression. "She told me you had a date tonight."

" _Oh, yeah._ " _Bingo_. He didn't sound surprised, as if only discovering now. He just sounded bored.

"Well? What happened?"

He tsked, and Killian's hand clenched into a fist. " _I saw the girl at the restaurant we were at. She looked like a bitch._ "

They were there for more than half hour, and Walsh just left her waiting. "Really?" He hummed. "What did she look like?" He ignored Emma's silent questions.

" _Ah, man, I don't know, blonde hair, bitchy expression, black dress..._ " Suddenly, he stopped. " _Why are you asking?_ "

He didn't spare him one word, hanging up and tucking the phone back into his pocket.

"What the hell?," he heard Swan's voice and looked down at her before resuming their walk, grateful she followed him.

"Sorry about that, love, but I may have just lost an acquaintance," he growled, glaring behind him at the restaurant they'd left. "In compensation, I believe I might have made a new one," he smiled at her, and was more than happy when she didn't deny it, just continued walking, the corners of her lips twitching as if holding back a smile.

 

* * *

 

He _had_ taken her back to her apartment, Emma saying she would even have invited him in for a drink had her roommate not been sleeping.

"It's still eleven," he frowned, glancing down at his watch.

"And she's a princess," she raised an eyebrow, and every time she did that it was like she was throwing a challenge at him. One he could never dodge. "She sleeps at ten." He hoped that was an invitation, but he knew better than to mention that out loud.

"That's adorable," he then quipped lowly, leaning forward just a bit, taunting her with his face a few inches from hers. Emma, however, didn't pull back, and he couldn't say he wasn't surprised. When his eyes darted to her lips, he licked his own. "I cannot say I didn't enjoy the night, Swan," he said softly.

"Me neither," she replied, only then pulling back and placing a hand on the doorknob. "Thank you, Killian."

"For what, love?," he tilted his head.

"For not letting me be kicked out of a fancy restaurant and die in shame?"

"That is rather radical. Perhaps gratitude is in order now." Maybe he was just teasing her. Even he didn't know for sure, the smell of her perfume and her emerald orbs drawing him closer without his full consent.

She just smiled slightly, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah, that's what the 'thank you' was for."

He frowned, deciding to mess a little bit more before finally bidding her goodnight. He was still thinking of how he would do it, not wanting to be too forward but also not wanting to make things awkward. "You just said you would have died in shame. Is that all your dignity's worth to you?"

She seemed to get what he was proposing, her grin widening a small bit. "Please, you couldn't handle it."

He was already starting to step back, but he was still close enough to whisper and make it possible for her to hear it. "Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it."

He grinned at her, satisfied at how her breathing hitched, and was pulling away from her when he suddenly felt a tug on the lapels of his jacket, his eyes already closing when she lurched forward, capturing his lips with hers.

He was too startled to do anything when the first second came, the realisation she was really kissing him surprising him, but, after what felt like hours, he responded, his hand slowly raising to cradle her head, softly enough so she would have space to pull away if she willed, because, after all, it could all be just an impulsive move and she could very well regret it mid-action.

When nothing happened, he angled his head to deepen the kiss, breathing in heavily through his nose as his other hand settled on her waist. He would be lying if he said his knees didn't feel slightly weak, her scent, her lips, her oh so soft hair, all being just one more reason to why he now found her near irresistible.

When oxygen became a problem for the both of them, she pulled away - yes, he searched for her lips once it was over, but it wasn't like he could help it - and let her nose brush his for a few moments.

"That was...," Killian spoke, his voice hoarse, but she interrupted him.

"A one-time thing," she replied, pulling away and easing her grip on his lapels, letting go once her eyes were on the doorknob. "It's not like we're ever gonna see each other again, right?"

That was almost the lay drop for him to basically jump on her again, but he was a gentleman, so he just stepped back and hoped - prayed - she would change her mind, because that woman would be the death of him if they ever crossed paths again. "Right," he answered softly, and couldn't ignore how she licked her lips as she entered the dark room, not sparing him a last look.

He touched his fingers to his still tingling lips, and looked over his shoulder at the door, a grin slowly forming on them as he savoured her lingering taste.

Maybe they wouldn't see each other again, but, even so, that night was definitely worth the annoyance he felt a few hours before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left if for your imagination to decide if they met again or not. 
> 
> Honestly, I just think this chapter's... Odd. Like, it's not bad, i actually quite like it, but idk where it all came from, and the writing itself is different and I'm just really confused. 
> 
> BY THE WAY, I _*might*_ have a new project on the making, but in gonna finish it before even thinking of probably posting it.


	64. Photographs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so sorry for the wait, but school started like a month ago and the teachers hate their students, which means exams the second week back, then an unbelievable shit ton of assignments that took most of my time. This time I have a reasonable excuse and I should not feel proud for it but I am. 
> 
> So I started writing this one a bit more than a month ago and came back to it like two days ago. Back then it was barely longer than 1k words. Somehow, in these past days, it turned into a 5k word monster.

**Photographs**

 

"Now _that_ is what I call an eye candy."

Emma rolled her eyes, fully aware Ruby was in a flirting spree and that was probably the fifth mildly attractive guy she would point out to her.

So she sighed, not even bothering to turn her head. "Ruby, all the guys--"

"No, really," the brunette interrupted, nodding towards someone behind Emma's back. "That is _exceptional_."

Emma frowned. Curiosity winning her inner battle, she twisted her body, searching the crowd for someone Ruby would label as ' _eye candy_ '.

"Dark hair, blue eyes," her friend began describing. Suddenly, she found him. "The photographer."

Raising her eyebrows, Emma ignored how her heart seemed to have skipped a beat. _Good looking_ would be the understatement of the year, the man's sparkling eyes visible from where she was sitting in the other corner of the room, his mouth in a grin as he then told a group to smile for the picture. When he lowered the camera, she noticed his suit and tie, both somewhat contrasting with his disheveled hair and the dark stubble that marred his jaw.

As if he had felt her eyes on him, the man adverted his gaze from the camera and looked up; at _her_. Emma smoothly - or so she hoped - turned her head and studied the bride and groom dancing energetically to the sound of ' _I Will Survive'_ ; her closest friends.

David and Mary Margaret had thrown a _scandalous_ wedding. Everything happened according to plan, not a single thing went wrong. Mary Margaret looked beautiful. She cried, David cried. Even Emma cried, which wasn't exactly a common happening. She had been honoured to be chosen the maid of honour by the bride, but the realisation that she would be standing only a few feet from the couple decided sink when she saw Mary Margaret glide down the aisle.

Emma didn't look at the photographer again, and Ruby had already lost her interest in him, especially since Eye Candy #3 swaggered over to their table and the both of them started flirting as if they were two horny teenagers.

Mockingly sickened by the vision, she wordlessly rose from her seat and crossed the dance floor - stopping to hug Mary Margaret as the latter fanned herself due the dance-induced heat - to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools and drumming her fingers on the wooden surface as she waited for the bartender to finish other people's orders.

She requested a martini - she was at a wedding, and that was the only occasion she would _ever_ allow herself to have a martini - and rested her chin on her hand.

"Evening, love."

She didn't look at whoever approached her. She had been ready to wave them off, not really in the mood to do anything but just enjoy the party and have a few drinks; but the his accent caught her attention.

The only accented men she knew David and Mary Margaret would have invited to the wedding were Robin and Will, with whom she was fairly acquainted; and none of them had such a smooth accent as whoever this was.

Slowly turning her head, she fought a blush when her eyes fell upon the hot photographer. She knew there were two others, but shouldn't he be, well, taking photos?

"Aren't you the photographer?," she started after a moment, choosing her words carefully.

"Aye," he smirked, and turned his head to the bartender when the latter approached them to lay Emma's martini in front of her. "Rum, please," he ordered, and she internally laughed. All that was left for the man to become a full pirate was eyeliner and leather.

"Why is the photographer getting drinks at the bar?," she asked him when he turned back to her, her eyes darting to the camera dangling from his neck.

He just shrugged, his right elbow resting on the bar as he turned on his seat to fully face her. "Dave's an old friend. Perhaps he thought it was suitable to put someone he trusts in charge of the photography."

 _Now that was smug_. "Or maybe you just thought it would be a brilliant idea to make money out of a 'suitable' occasion?" Was she flirting? Maybe it was his looks, or even his personality, but Emma was really flirting with him. "Why would you choose to work at an old friend's wedding?"

"You do have a point, love, David owed me some money, which I now agreed to forget with the wedding. However," he rushed when she looked like she was about to protest. "He was the one who offered it in the first place. Plus, it's not like I loathe this job. Quite the contrary, actually. So being here, _working_ , is my pleasure."

She hummed and sipped her drink, laying it down and poking the toothpick holding the olive in it.

"So, what's your name, love?," she heard after a few minutes, impressed he was still there after her clear attempt at ignoring him. The fact that he completely differed from his last sentences and didn't put _one single_ flowery term in his sentence might have also been one of the reasons she turned his head to him again.

He was determined, she'd give him that; but she hoped he wouldn't be a creep. "Emma." That was also all she gave him. _Nothing else._

"Emma," he repeated softly, and she would be lying if she didn't say she liked the way the name rolled from his tongue. "I'm Killian Jones."

She nodded slightly in acknowledgement, allowing a tiny smile to grace her lips.

He spent about two minutes trying to make light conversation with her, and after a while, she actually found herself enjoying his company. He wasn't like other guys who hit on her first _then_ tried to chat, he looked genuinely interested in what she said. His speech was funnily complicated, and she imagined his handwriting was either chaotic or perfectly flourished for it. It was as if he took the right cues to do anything, nodding, humming, chuckling, piping in, even tilting his head, always when fit. His topics were actually interesting, nothing of rage on football or excitement on cars or even brands of beer - her personal experience on that one.

"She's right there, actually," Emma was saying, and nodded towards Ruby, who was, surprisingly, still in the company of Eye Candy #3. "Still making eyes at the blonde guy."

"Whale?"

"Is that his name?"

"Aye, love. And Victor doesn't make eyes," he frowned.

She chuckled shortly. "He _is_ now."

"That he is," he huffed, as if the fact that Whale guy was interested in someone was surprising.

" _Jones!_ "

He looked behind him as another photographer called him, sighing when the man frustratingly tapped his watch. Adverting his gaze to the clock on the wall behind the bar, he scratched his jaw.

"Well, Emma, I'm afraid I must go now." He sounded... Guilty? Upset? She couldn't label it, it happened too fast. "I will, however, be out of duty after midnight," he raised an eyebrow at her as he got up. He didn't need to go on for her to know he was asking if she would be there.

She didn't tell him she would.

 

* * *

 

She decided not to look at Ruby in the eyes when she tapped her shoulder and warned her they were leaving.

"' _We_ '? Who's going with you, Rubs?," she teased, and she didn't need to look away from her glass to know the brunette had raised an eyebrow.

"The cute _doctor_ who came talk to me," she shrugged, emphasising the word ' _doctor_ '.

"Victor Whale," she proposed, and saw Ruby smirk out of the corner of her eye.

"Jackpot." With a kiss to her cheek, her friend started walking away. "See you tomorrow, you loser."

Shaking her head with a chuckle, Emma looked up to see Ruby's knowing look from over her shoulder. She knew the woman knew what she was up to.

"Good evening, Ms Swan," she heard yet another teasing voice to her left. She grinned and turned her head.

"Well, hello, Mrs Nolan, how're you doing tonight?" Mary Margaret still radiated excitement and giddiness.

"You do know you're not leaving with us, right?" The bride said with a raised eyebrow. Emma blinked; it was unusual for Mary Margaret to go straight to the point of a sentence. Of _anything_ , really.

"Oh, yeah," she frowned, a smile still gracing her lips. "I wouldn't want to be in your way of seeing the last details for the honeymoon. Or whatever you'd want to do on your post-wedding hours," she grimaced.

"Then why is Ruby walking away with none other than Victor Whale and you're still at the bar?"

Licking her lips nervously, Emma didn't reply immediately.

"Emma," Mary Margaret started, leaning her elbow on the surface of the bar, "could you be possibly waiting for someone?"

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, she finally looked at her friend with her best ' _piss off_ ' glare. The only reason Emma was trying so hard not to snap at her friend was because it was the latter's wedding night. "David's calling for you."

"I don't hear anything."

"That's a pity," she replied quickly. "Go to your husband instead of tiptoeing around my actions." She tried her best not to sound rude.

With a grin, the brunette walked away, sending her a glance over her shoulder. Emma sighed, her eyes falling on the clock behind the bar, and her heart picking up the speed when she noticed it was quarter to twelve.

What was happening to her?

Was it his light talk? His looks? The ease she felt? The rather unsettling feeling she could trust him?

Shifting on her stool, she took out her phone and checked her photos, something she liked to do to loose her nerves when she was tense. Ruby had once created an album of cute animal pictures and named it 'happiness in a bottle'. Fighting not to show a smile, she scrolled through the already massive number of photos, her eyes lingering on special ones like a picture of Mary Margaret's cat and one Emma herself had taken when she went on a trip to Scotland, where she had gotten stuck in a herd of passing sheep and one of them would have stuck its head into the car if the window wasn't rolled up. The picture was just the fluffy face of the animal, under the apparently very hot sun - but Emma remembered it had been freezing cold -, one of those seemingly happy expressions, almost a smile, plastered on it. It was sweet and Emma adored it.

"Glad to see my request wasn't in vain."

She looked up so fast her neck almost cracked. She could let her pride wash in and tell him off with a witty remark and an eye roll, but she for some reason thought better of it.

"I wanted to see why you were so adamant of me staying." She wasn't lying, but that wasn't all, certainly.

Killian chuckled, sitting next to her and waving at the bartender again. "Well, first of all, love, I wasn't so _adamant_. I merely suggested for you to stay. Secondly..." He trailed off, his gaze piercing hers. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Since my work here is done, I can enjoy some time with you."

"That's why you kept me waiting for two hours?," she questioned, an eyebrow shooting up. She was flattered, but she could obviously not handle feelings right now. She took a sip of her drink with a quiet hum. "Okay. So, tell me, _why_ did you accept taking pictures at your friend's wedding instead of just, you know, enjoying it?"

He proceeded to tell her about the joys of being a photographer, and talked about a specific day, when he did _not_ like being a photographer. She found herself actually relaxing, the lilt of his accent mixed with all the drinks she had - she wouldn't consider herself drunk, not yet. Just slightly _tipsy_ \- making her rest her elbow on the bar and focus on him and only him.

Killian Jones was an interesting man. Confusing and distancing from any stereotype every word he said, yes; but still _interesting_. One would think he was nothing more than a slightly grown version of a fratboy, with all the smirks and raised eyebrows and smugness to no end, but he, as he well emphasised, was a gentleman.

She could see it in the way he actually paid attention to what she was saying, or when he didn't make any sudden moves on her, or even when he offered to buy her a drink - which she promptly refused until the tenth time he asked.

"Emma?"

She turned around and was faced with Mary Margaret's happy face. The brunette's eyes landed first on Killian, then on Emma, then back to Killian, and Emma could almost see the gears turning furiously in her head, her gaze sparkling with something close to mischief - she was actually scared of that look.

"We're already leaving," she pointed at David in the other side of the room, the blonde man clapping the back of a waiter as he finished yet another piece of cake.

Emma frowned. "What time is it?"

The bride laughed soundly, head lolling back and all. "It's just past two." _What?_ "We just finished up."

Taking a look around the room, Emma saw about three people left, all of them in the same group; and they were already leaving. Raising her eyebrows, it took all her strength not to turn around and share an impressed look with Killian.

He didn't stop himself, though.

"I'll take you out," he prompted, already standing up, and only then did Emma turn around, right on time to see his hand raising to take her elbow and retreating, as if the idea wasn't so good. He gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"

She hesitated for a moment or two before grabbing her purse on the bar and opening it.

"I've already paid, love," he murmured to her, and she all but gaped at him.

"Jones," David said as he stepped closer to them, his arm going around his new-wife's waist. "Still here, huh?"

"Uh, mate," Killian called out, lifting a finger to the corner of his own lips and tapping it. Emma knew David was trying to look at least a bit intimidating, but he had icing smudged on different spots on his mouth and she couldn't take him seriously.

Holding back her laughter, she smiled when her friend finally understood, using his thumb to clear his skin of any other major mess ups.

"But yes, as a matter of fact, although we was just leaving," Killian continued, his eyes landing on Emma once again. She could understand his request, for the second time that night.

"Uh, yeah," Emma hopped off her seat, rushing to hug both her friends before any questions could be uttered. "I'll see you in three weeks, right?"

Mary Margaret smiled sweetly, squeezing the blonde's arm. "Three weeks."

With another reassuring nod, Emma started to the door, not waiting to see if Killian would follow. She would wait for him outside the door. _This is passing your own personal boundaries, Swan._

_Yeah, yeah._

She admitted to herself she was maybe freaking out a bit too much about all this.

"Alright, then, Emma," Killian said as soon as he was out the door, his hands in his pockets as he leaned a shoulder on the wall right next to her. "What do you say we go see ducks and swans in a pond nearby?"

She almost ignored how he'd just said her last name and wondered if he knew. Had she told him?

"There's a park not far from here," he looked into the distance, and she could see a few trees turning around the corner. "Let's?"

His simple yet clear invitation was all she needed to make herself nod.

 

* * *

 

They didn't walk for ten minutes before he was sitting on a bench facing the water - with ducks and swans in it.

"You didn't bring me here to kill me, did you?," she asked him jokingly, settling beside him, very aware of how close he was, his shoulder brushing hers, the warmth of his body inviting in the rather chilly night.

He chuckled deeply, the sound making her heart race for probably the seventeenth time that day. "Aye, I'll push you into the pond and let the birds eat you."

" _Yikes_ ," she mumbled under her breath.

They spent some time in a comfortable silence, nothing but the dim shine of the full moon enlightening the space. She didn't know for sure how long they sat there, but it was a surprisingly nice change. Despite having heard the sound of cars as they entered the park, it was quiet where they were, the only sounds being the rustling of the leaves on the trees, the occasional lap of the water and their slow breathing.

It was nice. Better than she would have imagined.

 

* * *

 

He walked her to her car, that was still parked a block from where the reception had happened.

He complimented her car ("It quite fits your personality, from what I've gathered, I'd dare say."), the old bug receiving a light tap on the hood from him.

"Don't know if that was a compliment or not, but I guess, thanks, anyway," she scratched her neck. She was nervous again, because this was goodbye and she didn't know what to do.

"Indeed, it was," he said softly, and approached her the slightest bit, a step taken forward making her breath hitch for a moment.

She blinked, her jaw tightening. "It was, um, nice meeting you," she attempted, her hand raising in its own accord.

He smiled warmly, and she smiled back. He took her hand, but didn't shake it; instead, he just held it for a second, his gaze never tearing from hers. She couldn't look away, the blueness of his eyes hypnotising her, as if he was looking into her soul and reading it like an open book.

And then, suddenly, he was lifting it, bringing it to his lips and kissing her knuckles. She thought it didn't happen in real life, but her knees went downright _weak_. The warmth of his breath skimming over her skin made her eyelids flutter and her mouth to stand open.

"My pleasure," was all he said, his voice sinfully rough, and it made her want to slap him because _shit_ , how did he even _do_ that?

She caught herself before she could do anything stupid, her hand falling from his grasp - her skin feeling cold at the loss of touch -, and stepped back, gripping the handle of her door firmly as she sent him a strained smile. Now she just wanted to leave; she didn't like how vulnerable he could make her feel with nothing but one look and a light touch.

"Good night, Killian," he finally uttered, opening the door and entering the car, closing it fast so he wouldn't do it for her. _Hurry, hurry, hurry._

"Good night, Emma," he replied softly, and she spared him one last look - big mistake, now that would probably be in her mind for the next two weeks.

She was very aware of how she was doing what she did best: run. She just didn't want to be.

When she drove off, she spied him from the rearview mirror. He scratched behind his ear as he looked at her go.

She sighed, her breath slightly trembling as she tried to calm herself.

 

* * *

 

_"Details."_

"Ruby--"

_"No, don't give me that crap. Is he there now?"_

"What?"

_"TELL ME NOW--"_

"Ruby, _shut up_ , let me wake up properly."

It was ten in the morning and it was a Sunday. Why was she even calling her?

"Okay, restart. _Slowly_ ," she added quickly, before Ruby could start her interrogation.

 _"Did you go home with him?,"_ her friend enunciated, a frantic and desperate tone settled on her voice.

"Who?"

_"Killian Jones, that's who."_

"How do you even know his name?"

_"Victor knows him."_

"Ah, so the guy you went home with knows the guy you assume I went home with." She chose her words carefully, for anything she said could be held against her by Ruby Lucas. "No, I didn't come home with him."

 _"I'm honestly disappointed,"_ she said in the other side of the line. _"When are you seeing him again?"_

"I'm not," she replied, rubbing her eye with her finger. She was so glad she wasn't hungover.

_"WHAT?! EMMA SWAN, TELL ME YOU GOT HIS NUMBER OR I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU--"_

"Ruby, stop yelling, it's too early for screaming."

 _"I hope you're hungover, you loser,"_ Ruby muttered grumpily.

"Why are you so upset? It's not like it happened to you, is it?"

Her friend sighed. _"No, but... I was almost sure you guys would hit it off."_

"What do you mean?" She sat up, resting her forehead on her hand.

 _"I don't know, I saw you two talking and you seemed..."_ She paused. _"Pretty relaxed? Having a good time? And then you waited for him--"_

"I didn't--"

_"Oh, shut up, Ems, I know you did. And Mary Margaret told me you left together, so I assumed it would work out."_

"That woman is going on her honeymoon, why was she gossiping with you about me?" Looking at it now, Emma didn't really understand what stopped her, though.

For years, she'd done nothing but one night stands - excepting the Walsh fiasco -. This could perfectly fit for another one: flirting at the bar, the chemistry, the tension. She was certainly attracted to him, and she wouldn't exactly lie to herself and say he wasn't attracted to her.

Why hadn't she? He said it himself, he was a gentleman. Judging how careful he was with her, he wouldn't be the one to do the first move, would he?

So why didn't she just do it?

 _"Did you at least give him your phone number?,"_ Ruby asked tiredly.

Thinking of it at that moment, maybe Emma regretted not giving him any way to contact get.

"No," she answered lowly. "I didn't."

 

* * *

 

She was sitting at the nearby coffee place when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

 _"Ah, Emma Swan."_ His accent was evident even on just her name, _Jesus_.

"Killian?" She sat up straighter, closing the book she had been attempting to read - _attempting_ being the keyword - and gripping her phone tighter.

 _"Aye, love,"_ he replied, and God, what was it with his voice?

"How did you even get this number?," she couldn't stop the tiny smile that was set on her lips a second after.

_"Let's just say bothering the mister and missus on their honeymoon was worth it."_

"Did you call Mary Margaret or did she call you?"

 _"I believe you underestimate our dear newly-wedded friend. She texted me the number."_ She could hear the amusement in his voice.

Shaking her head, Emma sat back on her chair. _"Emotions all over, huh?"_

 _"Precisely. So,"_ he started, and her grin widened. _"Should I ask you out now or is it too soon?"_

 

* * *

 

They had dinner at Granny's the Wednesday after, being served by an ecstatic Ruby and meeting none other than Victor Whale at the counter.

That night, Killian walked her to her apartment, his hand finding hers in the cheesiest way possible along the way. When they stopped in front of her door, he'd let go of her hand, only to grab it again not a second later and mirror his actions from the previous Saturday, his lips finding her knuckles, making a shiver run up her arm.

He let go of her hand, tucking his hands in his pockets again and taking a step back. He bid her good night, and started to walk away, but she still didn't want him to go, she didn't want the night to end _just yet_. So she found herself reaching forward and gripping his arm firmly, his look hopeful yet questioning as it set on her hand then on her eyes.

He started saying something, but she pulled him to her, one hand on the lapel of his jacket and the other tugging on his arm, and connected his lips to hers in a swift move. Another shiver went up her spine when both his hands settled on her waist, one of them circling to her back and tangling in her curls.

He tasted of the hamburger he'd just ate and the rocky road ice cream they had shared in the most cliched way. His lips soft on hers, she didn't hold back a sigh, the action making him pull her even closer to him. He was warm, his solid chest brushing hers.

When she pulled away, he chased her, and she couldn't help but smile at that. He was still staring at her lips when she took a little step back, her hands sliding from their place on his shoulder down his chest.

"Good night, Killian," she whispered in the quiet of the corridor.

He looked utterly destroyed, his disheveled hair even messier by the work of her hands, his cheeks still flushed from the kiss.

He finally looked up, and the look he gave her through his lashes knocked the air out of her lungs. "Good night."

She waited a moment before fully stepping out of his embrace, unlocking her door and stepping inside, a secret look of admiration she would only allow herself to give to very special people sent his way as she closed it.

When she locked it again, she leaned back on it heavily. She heard a light muffled curse on the other side of the door and chuckled, closing her eyes for a moment.

She didn't know if she felt like this because she hadn't allowed herself to do so in a long time or because it was just _him_.

She hoped it was the second one.

 

* * *

 

Months later, Emma was lying on his couch, his laptop resting on her thighs as she looked through the wedding's photos.

"Shouldn't these have come out like ages ago?," she asked loudly for him in the kitchen.

" _Aye, they did_ ," Killian replied. " _I just had to sort them and choose the proper ones to send the couple_."

"And it took you _months_?," she asked unbelievingly. "Mary Margaret got _pregnant_ and you didn't even finish sorting them? Why don't you just admit you forgot to show me them?"

He didn't answer, and she could picture him rolling his eyes.

Her eyes scanned the window when she finished going through the pictures. All of them were unbelievable, gorgeous in every way. In all her pictures, Mary Margaret _radiated_ happiness, as if the air around her was filled with rainbows and unicorns. A favourite of hers was one of the cake - the oh-so-very-tall cake -, the icing perfect and the light hitting it poetically. But the best part was the bride and groom in the unfocused background, sharing an elated kiss. Emma smiled at the picture.

Her eyes settled on the search bar, and she could see this folder was inside another one. Maybe they hadn't deleted all the pictures?

Curiosity won sense and she clicked on it, happy to see three distinct folders on the screen. They were ' _concluded_ ', ' _Emma_ ' and ' _in progress_ '.

 _Wait, '_ Emma _'?_

Her brows furrowing, she clicked on it, and almost swore under breath when it took ten seconds for the window to load.

It surely wasn't trespassing, right? It was in a folder of the _wedding pictures_ , after all.

When it finally loaded, Emma was sure her heart stopped.

It was _her_. It was just pictures of her. The first two rows were pictures she knew were taken, before she even really met him, his whole being just a faceless body flashing lights at her face and annoying her the slightest bit.

After that it was just... Her. Random moments of the night. Pictures taken from afar, pretty zooms and tricks of the light. Her face smiling, serious, a raised eyebrow, a bored look, an interested look. There were pictures of her talking to Ruby, to David, to Mary Margaret, to Robin, to little Roland. Pictures of her nursing a glass of something, eating a bit of cake, scrolling through her phone, throwing a fake grape at Ruby's face. So many angles, so many emotions she didn't know she could have sketched over her face.

But the list continued. As she scrolled down even more, the pictures weren't at the reception anymore. They were taken with his phone, with his little camera, with his big, professional camera. At the park, at her apartment, at _his_ apartment, at Ruby's birthday party, at Granny's. Pictures where she smiled at the camera, pictures she made faces at the camera, pictures she didn't know we're taken.

_So many pictures..._

She didn't know when her vision started blurring, but when Killian entered the room, wiping his hands on his jeans, a frown to his forehead and a worried "Love?", she couldn't help but almost throw the laptop aside, getting up and rushing to him, her arms winding around his neck as she nestled her face under his chin.

It didn't take a second for his own arms to wrap around her, and she pressed herself flush to him.

"Emma, what's wrong?," he asked, his breath tickling her ear and the use of her first name bringing shivers to her spine - as it always did, no matter _how_ many times he said it.

She pulled back, not sure if there were tears on her cheeks - honestly, what was happening to her? -, a smile gracing her lips.

"Nothing, I just..." She paused. Her eyes skimming all over his face, she scraped her nails on his scalp. "I just really love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of this basically came with the string of weddings I've attended in August and the realisation that I don't really remember any of the photographers' faces. That plus a rewatch of Sherlock's third season put me in the mood of wedding photographers. 
> 
> Hey, who loved the latest Tumblr update? Who else wants to get spears and torches and camp in front of the official Tumblr building?


	65. Dalmatians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELL YEAH OUATS BACK
> 
> I think the premiere gave me inspiration and I started writing this around the time it finally - finally - came out. 
> 
> But really I watched 101 Dalmatians a few weeks back because gUESS WHAT. I GOT A FUCKING DOG. So that makes updates sort of hard; in all fanfiction really. 
> 
> OH AND OH MY GOD I MIGHT GO TO ENGLAND IN JANUARY YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW FREAKED OUT I AM
> 
> But yeah.

**Dalmatians**

 

London, United Kingdom. In the late years of the 1950s, two bachelors sat by the window of a tiny corner flat by Regent's Park. Two bachelors, yes; one of them, however, wasn't only single, but _canine_.

Killian Jones, musician, could handle his life well enough. The flat, while crowded and an absolute mess, contained everything he could possibly need - excepting, of course, someone special to share it with.

He never stopped telling himself sharing it with Pongo, his ever loyal dalmatian, was more than enough; but who was he fooling? His songs were about _love_ , for heaven's sake, how could he keep telling himself the bond between man and dog was enough?

Of course, the lyrics he so fervently wrote could be reasonably put on paper due his rather miserable love life. He would never forget Milah, his late adolescence relationship - she was lost forever to him. _May the last days of the war be damned_ , he used to think every night before shutting out the lights or passing out from either exhaustion or too many drinks - and the days he'd spent with her still haunted his dreams, some nights.

Killian, however, understood she wouldn't want him to keep her passing until the end of his days and not live his life. So why not trying live the best out of it by keeping her _memory_ alive, with nothing more than music?

That day, a comfortably cool afternoon in May, Killian had been sitting by the piano since before lunchtime. He ignored the pains on his back from being hunched over the paper sheets and his aching fingers from pressing keys all day, thanking all the existing gods that his inspiration was being generous with him; generous enough to make him forget his discomfort.

He'd look up from his work a minute or another, watching the people on the street and letting his strange habit of imagining their stories fly free. His rather tragic past wished them all the happiness they could get: he could be selfish enough to not give someone their happiness if it possibly included him, but he never wished anyone would feel as much pain as he had.

Jumping out of his focus - quite literally -, he dropped his pencil when Pongo barked loudly, the sound coming from right behind him.

"Bloody hell, lad, don't do that," he muttered, picking up the object and running a hand through his hair. It was as tousled as his living room - it was the expected after hours sitting down and creating melodies.

He turned around on his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he faced his dog. Pongo had his leash in his mouth, his tail wiggling as if going out for a walk was all he'd ever wanted. Killian frowned, a small smirk settling on his lips, and looked at the clock. It was already past five; the dog was too smart for his own good.

With a sigh and a strained ' _alright, then_ ' as he stretched his back, he stood up, chuckling at how Pongo almost jumped in glee, trotting around his owner. He took the leash, waiting until they were out of the building to click it to the spotted animal's collar - he trusted his dog, knowing he would never run off and away; but he could never be sure he could guide him to the park with just his voice and good will.

Pongo was acting different, that walk. Instead of looking around curiously, focused on everything at the same time as if it was the first time he left the flat, he seemed to have a clear objective: get to the park. Struggling to keep a hold of the leash, Killian tried to catch up with him, missing a few steps here and there, luckily managing to keep standing and not falling to the ground. Dalmatians were big dogs, imagine having to be pulled forwards by one of them.

Pongo seemed to know exactly where to go, taking precise turns and looking around frantically. Killian fought the urge to ask out loud what the dog was looking for - he wasn't going to answer anyway.

Suddenly halting to a stop, Pongo huffed air through his nose, his tongue darting out to it. Killian frowned - honestly, what was happening to him?

When he glanced up to what the dog was looking at, he was almost sure the air was knocked out from his lungs.

A few yards from them, sat the most beautiful creature he'd set his eyes on in a _long_ time. She sat with her back straight, blonde tresses flowing down it, a simple book in her hands. Next to her, on the ground, sat, _yes_ , a dalmatian. He liked the thought of that being the reason Pongo so arduously pulled him around the park. Could that be real, though?

His dog seemed to recompose himself, standing high and proud and more softly pulling him down the path passing the lady. Perhaps he should do it himself; tidying up, look confident. Perhaps she would look up?

His steps calm and steady, a hand in his pocket, chin high hiding his rather nervous state of mind, he didn't look at her when they walked by, a smile threatening to creep up to his lips.

He hadn't felt that in a long while, that need to turn around and talk to someone for the pure desire to do just that. That woman seemed to have bewitched him, the very brief moment she glanced up at the sky revealing sparkling green eyes and almost making him sigh in wonder.

Taking off his jacket and sitting down by the lake, he felt the grass under his fingertips and lifted a hand to pet Pongo's head as the dog settled by his side. "I hope you know what you're doing, mate," he murmured, patting his neck. He wiggled his tail momentarily in response.

Sighing heavily, Killian observed the ducks, studying a lonely swan in the far end of the lake. He couldn't help but let his mind wander to the fair creature he'd just seen, and right when his mind constructed her beautiful, beautiful eyes, Pongo ran.

Well, not exactly _ran_ , more like jumped away from him and bowed, with a bark, followed by a crazy tail and challenging eyes. In his mouth, he had Killian's jacket. Did he really want to play _now_?

Sighing again, not helping a smile, he stood, reaching for the coat, but Pongo ducked, leaping away and looking back at him, as if mocking how slow he was. Shaking his head, Killian chased him, almost falling face first on the grass more than once.

After about a minute of running around, he grabbed his coat, at last, and pulled it out of Pongo's grasp.

"What is wrong with you today?," he panted, the cool weather not stopping sweat from gathering on his forehead. He just hoped his clothes weren't stained.

Looking around for whatever that might have spiked the dog's energy, his eyes fell on the bench that beautiful lady had been sitting on. She wasn't there anymore; both human and dog had just _vanished_. He could help the little speck of loss that settled on his heart.

 

* * *

 

Every day at five in the afternoon, Killian Jones found himself leaving the his building with hope in his heart. Constant hope: would he meet with her again? Would they stumble upon them? Would he finally have the pleasure to hear her voice? Would it be as melodious as he expected?

And none of those days did he encounter her. Was her trip to the park something unique? Did she stop going? _Is she going to a different park?_

Killian stared at the clock on his desk, scratching his beard. It had been two weeks. He had to give up, didn't he?

So when the clock struck five, he sat back, sheepishly glancing over at Pongo, who was already wiggling his tail at his owner.

"Sorry, lad. Perhaps in an hour?," he suggested, once again rolling his eyes at his own antics. He was well aware the dog wouldn't respond; yet he couldn't stop himself.

After about five minutes of cheerful fussing around, Pongo understood. He got back to his spot by the window seat and sat with his back to Killian. The man sighed.

"Might as well do some work," he muttered, standing up and taking his own seat by the piano.

An hour later, he had a sketch of a melody formed. In his mind, blonde flowing hair and sparkling green eyes, and what he hoped to be a perfect smile.

When writing the lyrics, all he could think about was how he wished to meet the lovely lady from the park.

 

* * *

 

When Killian looked at the clock by the wall, he frowned deeply. Rising his wrist, he compared the time from it and his watch.

The clock was over forty minutes ahead of his watch's hour.

Grumpily standing and pacing to it, he turned it, fiddling with the gears around it and fixing the time. "How did this bloody happen?," he mumbled, putting it back in place once he was done and rubbing a hand across his face. How long had it been like that?

Suddenly, he noticed it. It had been five o'clock. Now, it was _four_.

How long had he been late?

Determined to wait until real five o'clock, he sat on his armchair, a book clutched in his hand, and attempted to read to pass time. It only made it pass more slowly.

When the time finally struck, he was already out the door, Pongo barking with his tongue stuck out as he panted from joy.

Sometimes he wished he was a dog: ' _life is happy as long as I have an owner who loves me'_.

He rushed over to the park, hope blossoming inside him yet again, and let Pongo lead the way. He couldn't help but look around, careful not to look _too_ desperate.

He did not know what got into him; why he was so fervent about this woman. Had she _truly_ bewitched him? Was she a sorceress?

This time, if they encountered her, Killian would talk to her. He would overcome whatever emotional struggles and obstacles he had and would _bloody talk to her._

He was so deep in thought he hadn't realised Pongo was already causing slight mayhem.

He had stopped trotting and had walked around someone, his leash twining with the other person's - who was apparently also walking their dog - and both of them wrapping around Killian's and the lady's - it _was_  a lady, if the skirt was of any tell - legs. They were stuck, pressed against each other by the leashes curled around them, and only then did he notice the protests and exclamations coming from the her. He also just noticed the string of apologies that had started flowing out of his mouth.

"Oh, _dear_ , I am so sorry, I don't know what happened to him." They started untangling the leashes, finally putting some distance between each other. " _Pongo_ ," he gritted out to the dog. "What is wrong with you?," he scolded.

Turning back to the woman, he was about to start apologising once more when his eyes fell upon her and the air was knocked out of his lungs for the first time in weeks.

It was her. The _Blonde Beauty_ , the siren who had haunted his thoughts for countless days - or what _felt_ like countless days.

It was her, standing right in front of him.

He recomposed himself with a discreet shake of his head, hoping he wasn't gaping at her. _It's her._ "My apologies, milady; Pongo seems to want to play a bit _too much_." He glared at her dog. "I must say, you chose your dog well," he pointed with a smirk.

She frowned slightly, then looked down at her dalmatian and huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, well, at least mine doesn't _attack_ people," she muttered slightly, and he couldn't help but find her bluntness attractive.

"Oh, American?," he noticed, wrapping the end of Pongo's leash around his hand - that bloody canine was incredibly quiet down; damn him and his near human mind. "What is an American doing in this side of the pond?"

She lightly narrowed her eyes at him, considering his question. "Why exactly would I tell you? You're just a stranger in the park."

He needed to change that, then. "Would you perhaps agree to tell me over breakfast at the nearby restaurant?"

"It's an Italian restaurant," she pointed out. _So she knows the restaurant._

"Indeed it is. I'm sure they serve breakfast," he quipped.

"I'm sure they don't," she replied.

He waited a moment and hummed. "Then dinner," he shrugged. "I'm sure they serve that," he added teasingly.

That earned him a small smile and his heart rate quickened at it. Hopefully not for the last time.

(It wasn't the last time. Not even near that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I started this I wanted to actually write the whole movie, but Killian's point of view always makes me so poetic and I sort of become someone who speaks in a flowery speech - *cough* Killian Jones *cough* - so yeah. It's only their meeting.


	66. Back and Forth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so it's been a year. 
> 
> Yup, I managed to be unhappy with over fourteen different half written oneshots before I settled for finishing this one. Needless to say I am pretty happy with this one. 
> 
> Also. UM. DID TIMELESS HIT 10K HITS WHILE I WAS GONE WHAT THE FUCK HOW DO YOU GUYS EVEN FIND THIS IDEK 
> 
> So apparently I have officially unlearned how to write oneshots so idk how long I'll take to post another one??? I know this is probably the worst thing to say rn but hey I did take an entire year to post a new one.

**Back and forth**

 

Killian didn't think he'd ever get over the way her eyes shone in green, her hair glowed in gold, her smile sparkled - just that. It _sparkled_ , nothing else.

He never thought he would ever be able to sit in front of her and not wonder how she was even real, how she wasn't some kind of angel or a hallucination he kept having.

So there he was, staring at her face, pretending everything he felt wasn't real - partly to diminish his small agony, but also to not let it be so _obvious_ ; in love as he was, he still had dignity - and that whatever relationship they had could easily be resumed in one simple, painful word: _friendship_.

Not the _best_ friendship, for his dismay, but alas, Emma Swan was a tough nutshell, too tough to break easily, hidden behind her so very high walls as he desperately tried to climb them without the proper supplies.

" _Killian_ ," he heard beside him, his attention finally driven from the way she moved on the other side of the bar as Robin slipped onto the stool to his right and called for him. "You know, mate, I find this tactic of yours rather curious. I don't see how _ogling_ at a woman from several feet away is going to make her walk over and talk to you."

"I'm not ogling, you prick, I'm..." He paused for a second. What _was_ he doing? "... _thinking_."

"Thinking how pretty your children would be?," Robin teased with a tilt of his head, which earned him a well-deserved punch on the arm.

Locksley's laughter must have caught her attention, because, thanks to the distraction, Killian didn't even notice her padding towards them, an eyebrow raised. "'Evening, guys. Care for a drink?" They nodded and Killian could feel his knee start bouncing on its own accord. "You've both been sitting there for, like, ten minutes and didn't order anything. I was starting to worry you'd caught, like, the plague or gotten pregnant."

"You got me, Emma, I'm two months in," Robin kid, trying to lighten the mood Killian's clear tenseness had made heavy.

The both of them laughed politely and Killian could _feel_ her eyes on him. He preferred to keep his head down, otherwise he'd have to look up and confront his feelings - _her_ feelings, actually; he'd just have to bottle up his.

"So, Killian," she began, and he clenched his jaw. "You coming on Saturday?"

 _Oh, Saturday_. The bar was having a live band play for a few hours and it was apparently a _big deal_. Killian wasn't fond of the idea - not because _he_ has a band and could _very well_ play there on Saturday, but because the head of the band was a git. Walsh Green and Killian had met a fair share of times before and he could count on the fingers of one hand how many of those meetings were actually pleasant.

He had to admit, though, his dismay toward the gentleman was first and foremost due to the ape's  _constant_ pursue of Emma. Thankfully, she'd never once wavered on her declining of his suggestive invitations and flirty conversations. Hell, Killian had been there himself, but at least he'd learned when to leave her alone and when to accept a ' _no_ ' as an answer.

He didn't realise he'd spent way too much time thinking it over until she called his name two other times.

"Apologies, love, it appears I'm a bit off tonight." He got up from his stool, clapping a hand on Robin's back more forcefully than normal with the intent of silently telling him he just had to leave. "We'll talk some other time, then. Good night, you two."

And with that, he exited the bar and wandered into the night, his head spinning. Why had he let himself fall this hard for someone he did not have a chance with?

 

* * *

 

It was Saturday and he made the mistake of going to that blasted bar. He'd attempted to lure Robin into coming with him, but the _serious adult_ had an actual date with his actual girlfriend and _why_ was Killian even friends with this kind of financially and emotionally stable people when _his_ life was a train wreck?

It appeared he was alone that night.

As soon as he opened the door of the bar, he heard the loud buzzing of chatter and the noises of a band setting up on the tiny stage in a corner. His eyes scanned the crowd for any familiar faces, but none seemed to spring any memories in his mind.

He settled at the counter of the bar, squeezing between two gigantic ginger men who were blocking a free stool, and sighing as soon as he caught a glimpse of gold at the corner of his eye.

"Killian!," Emma exclaimed, clearly surprised. "You're actually here."

He looked over at her and _goddamnit, get a grip, Jones._ "Aye. I am also taken aback at how many people are here to see this band."

"I don't know, they're quite good."

He blinked at her. "They may be decent but you have to admit, Swan: that Walsh has the perfect face for a punch."

He made her laugh - the smallest, simplest chuckle she'd probably _ever_ given - and his heart skipped a beat. His own lips curving at the ends, he rapped his knuckles once on the dark hardwood surface he was leaning on and ordered a glass of rum. "If you would be so kind, love," he added, not managing to hold back the little flirtatious tone of voice he was sure she would purse her lips at.

He was wrong.

She smiled lightly, a tug of her lips, and put his order together in a second. No comeback, no sarcastic comment on his drinking habits, no remarks of his similarities to a pirate. He couldn't take his eyes off her and, for his most enormous surprise, she held his gaze, arms crossed on the bar top as she also leaned on it. It was only then that he realised she had gotten much, much closer to him than she had previously been.

Was that a sign? Did that mean anything? Why could he now, of all moments, not read a word out of her expression? It was indecipherable.

"Emma Swan."

Killian would have punched the man right there if he had not been so distracted by the siren in front of him. Walsh slithered over to his side, a smirk on his face that could make Killian growl in disgust.

Emma sighed, raising both her eyebrows. "Walsh. Can I get you anything?"

His smirk widened, his eyes hooded. "Maybe your phone number?"

"I'll just get you a beer, then." She ducked out as soon as she could and oh, no, Killian was alone with him.

"Hi... _Killian_ , is it?"

"Aye," he replied shortly.

"I can see you're after her too, and I'd tell you to back--"

"Okay, first," Killian cut him off, turning on his seat and taking a large sip from his glass. "I am not ' _after_ ' Emma. Whatever we become, it's as much up to her as it is to me."

"Oh, but you _are_ interested?," Walsh attempted to look like he had some kind of leverage but Killian didn't understand how that would be one.

"Of course I'm interested, but it doesn't mean I'll pounce on her as if it only depended on my will. As certain people do," he added pointedly.

The other man scoffed. "Whatever, man." He was silent for a whole five minutes before Emma came back.

"Hey, Walsh; you're about to go on."

"I know."

"Then go, there are people waiting for you."

"Are you one of them?" Killian was indeed going to punch that man if he didn't leave at that second.

Emma laughed politely just as she had with Robin the other day. "Not ever."

Killian didn't even try to hide his grin.

 

* * *

 

"Alright, Killian, Robin told me of your situation, and I am ready to help."

Ruby Lucas had been one of his closest friend for the past five years, but she rarely knew what was happening with Killian directly from him. She got to know he'd broken his arm through David, that he'd moved two blocks away from where he used to live from Will, that he'd taken care of that shelter stray who needed a temporary home from Mary Margaret and now this from Robin. Maybe he needed to call her more.

"Ruby, I don't need help--"

"Ha, yeah. Okay, keep believing that, sweet pea; you'll do perfectly in life." She kept wiping glasses clean and making coffee and talking to him at the same time and he didn't know how she managed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! It's just that you clearly need some help with Emma and you keep dodging everything we try. Just let us aid you in this moment of crisis."

"It's not a _crisis_ ," he buried his face in his arms in defeat, his forehead making contact with the cold surface of the diner's counter.

"Oh, _please_. According to Robin, you turn into a puddle whenever she's in the room. Like, you could literally eat off her palm."

"Shut up, Ruby."

"Listen, I know Emma. I've known her for half my life, and I know how prickly and annoyingly closed off she can be. But I'll tell you something, when she's with you, she's different." She'd finally laid the glasses down and had her palms on the counter, her stance meaning nothing but 'business'.

"No, she isn't. She's like that with all her _closer_ friends."

"Trust me, it took me six years to make her feel alright with taking her shirt off in front of me."

Killian narrowed his eyes. "I don't see what this has to do with anything."

"My point is, she is closed off with everyone except for the people who are, like, _really_ special to her."

"She's always closed off with me." It was true. Emma was all about crossed arms and limited smiles and not enough information. Well, at least she _used_ to be; until Saturday night.

"Look, I'll have to be the judge of that. I'm heading over to the bar tonight; be there at eight. I'll study you two," she finished with a wolfish grin that was a silent synonym for trouble.

 

* * *

 

At eight, he was at the door. When he opened it, he realised how much at home he felt, surrounded by the soft chatter and low music, the sound of clinking glasses of a faraway table celebrating someone's birthday or the too loud laughter of a college girl in a corner. He headed over to the bar more on automatic pilot than anything else and found Ruby in a second, excitingly talking to Emma about something he felt eager to know about just because of the latter's smile. _Get a grip._

"Evening, ladies."

"Hey, Killian," Ruby greeted, her eyes wide with a clear message: ' _act natural_ '. She made this feel like a secret mission.

"Rum, no ice, poured with care," Emma joked, sliding a full glass across the bar top. He grabbed it and tipped his head in thanks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Their interactions and flowed for about half an hour, with tiny interruptions as Emma went to serve other patrons, their topics ranging from ' _what if Snow White and Prince Charming didn't actually have a happy ending_ ' to ' _how many plot holes are there in Lost_ '. At one point, the drinking Killian had been doing finally had some effect over him and he excused himself to use the loo.

The entire way to and back from the restroom, his head was filled with little imaginary notes he'd taken, observations he'd made regarding Emma since his conversation with Ruby that morning hadn't left his mind for one second.

As soon as he returned, feeling refreshed and goofy from his drinking and just _Emma_ in general, he could feel the change in the air - which sounds really dramatic for the actual situation, but he could not put it in any other way - the way Emma's brow was wrinkled and how Ruby's eyes flashed with annoyance.

When he sat on his stool, Emma seemed to snap out of whatever state she was in and made up an excuse to leave them, one Killian didn't even hear well because only _one thing_ could have happened.

"What did you do?," he asked Ruby lowly.

She took a breath and he could already see she felt guilty. "I only told her what I told you this morning."

He frowned deeply at her statement and could feel the rush of anger travelling up his neck. "You what?"

"I only told her what I've see clear as day."

"Ruby, you know you can't push Emma."

"Yes, but--"

"Then why the bloody hell did you do it?!" He was angry. Killian really felt _bad_ about all this. He wouldn't voice it, but his main annoyance was that he knew he was slowly breaking Emma's walls down, brick by brick, but now, because of Ruby, all he could possibly hope for was the cold shoulder again. He was starting to see what Ruby meant when she did the worst thing possible and most probably reversed the situation.

Killian clenched his jaw so hard it hurt his teeth, but he paid it no mind. No, he had more things to worry about.

Shaking his head, he left her, quickly exiting the bar because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the coldness of Emma's gaze or the shortness of her words or the sharpness of her voice. No, he wouldn't be able to regress two years in their friendship, not after all he'd done.

 _Bloody fantastic_.

 

* * *

 

It was four in the afternoon when he heard the knock on his door - which was odd, because the only visitors he ever got were delivery men and they were very brief with their visits; he didn't order anything -, the three raps he heard very faintly from his room. Furrowing his brow, he scavenged his brain for something, anything, that could hint to a visitor. He didn't recall anything.

Opening the door, he almost fell back in surprise. It was _Emma_ , face full of doubts and judgement - the worst kind: she was judging _herself_.

He blinked and swallowed the sudden lump on his throat. "Emma?"

"Hi," she replied, rather breathily.

"What's wrong?"

She looked like she had no idea why she was there and, frankly, he was scared.

After a while of thinking, she hesitantly spoke again. "Killian, I realised something."

"Oh?," he urged her to move on, a voice in the back of his mind yelling at him go ask her to come in, but he was too afraid of what could happen, of what he could do; of what she could do.

"I realised it's way past the time I run away from everything. That it's time for me to get a freaking grip, for me to figure out my life." She was looking up at him with her eyes wide and he felt like, for her, saying those words was almost like pouring her heart out to him. "I realised I should face what I fear, or at least try to."

He tilted his head ever so slightly, eyebrows knitting together. "And what do you fear, love?"

"You." She didn't hesitate one second before saying it and, if he were completely honest, he almost stumbled back.

" _What_?"

"Killian, I've been feeling these... _Things_ lately and I don't know if it's good or bad; I don't know if I hate you too much or if I like you too much because every time I look at you I feel _so confused_." Her eyes weren't on his anymore, now moving from one spot to another as she apparently tried to organise her thoughts. "I have this habit of closing myself off, of locking myself up. I know that; I've _always_ known that. But what I didn't know until very recently was that, despite my efforts of keeping myself safe from harm, I couldn't help but hurt those around me. Especially those who _care_ about me," she looked up at him again, eyes meeting his and making him fall into that infinite of green and grey and hazel.

"Emma," he said lowly. "Where are you trying to get?"

She stepped closer to him and he let her because, if she believed this was something special to her to the level that it felt like a breakthrough, he was bloody well going to let her do what she trusted was right. "It's time to stop running. It's time to open myself up, bit by bit. Now, I'm not an expert at this, but I guess the _first_ step would be--"

He didn't let her finish because it was just too much for him. Taking the selfish turn for the first time in a while, he crossed the space between them and kissed her. Her lips, ever so soft, made him feel as if he should have done this years before, his hands on her waist and back feeling her warm skin through her shirt.

She was as still as a statue for a moment. Only then it occurred to him she could have meant baking cookies or donating money to charity, and he almost pulled back; but then her hand slid up his shoulder and into his hair while the other one rested on his chest and he _knew_.

He knew she'd chosen him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk where this came from? Like I was on tumblr and was like 'goddamn I need to try to write for Timeless again' and then boom. It worked. Miracles do happen once in a while so meh


	67. Blackout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W E L P. Guess who. 
> 
> This was the product of a three day long binge watch of all the CS scenes in every season possible of this goddamn tv show. 
> 
> And it is also farewell. I’ve officially deleted my tumblr and lost the interest I had that boosted me and inspired me to write these. 
> 
> To be completely fair, this collection ended long ago. I was just too scared to all of a sudden change that question mark to 66. So this is my goodbye gift, as well as a Christmas present to anyone who for some reason decided to click on this lil thing and read my words as I struggled with writing in a language that wasn’t my own. 
> 
> So this is it. The last one.

Being fully honest, Emma failed to notice there was something wrong. For a few minutes, at the very least.

She had been fighting hard against her each day more common companion, dearest insomnia, curled up on her couch, the environment around her pitch black, dark and quiet, as she hoped her phone would tire her eyes out enough for her lids to feel the least bit heavier; wishing for the first time since she got to this town that she had a _chaotic_ work routine that demanded her to spend the whole night with her head buried in case files and caffeine flowing through her bloodstream.

It was only when a chill ran down her spine and spread out to her whole body that she looked around, confused. Why was she cold? The heat was on, it was _December_. And so she noticed. Silence.

Storybrooke had always been pretty quiet, even for a small town, but it was different now. It wasn’t quiet. It was dead _silent_.

Hopping from her spot on the couch, she grabbed a warm quilt from the armchair in front of her and opened the curtains behind the spot she had been sitting on for hours. It was all dark.

A blackout. _Why the hell?_

Scoffing out loud, she turned her phone’s flash light on and rummaged through the loft in search of some sort of battery-powered light source. Noting the absence of flashlights, she growled lowly in exasperation. Where did Mary Margaret keep her candles? She seemed like a candle person - after that whole Miner’s Day extravaganza a few months prior, Emma truly expected her friend to have a box full of the stuff.

Alas, all she could find were some matchboxes in the kitchen and her roommate’s cellphone — so, no calling her, apparently. _Great_.

It was two in the morning, and she was suddenly wide awake, which was obviously _exactly_ what she needed. Huffing out an incredulous, humourless laugh, she stood in the middle of the apartment, glancing around like a damn fool because she had lived alone pretty much her whole life, and yet she had no idea of what to do.

She tried looking out the window again, but she feared opening it would make her freeze to death, so she instead decided to curse the town, the power cables, the snow and her _dear friend_ Mary Margaret, all four which seemed to conspire against her in a convoluted scheme to piss her off in every scale known to human kind.

Grabbing her warmest jacket, she ignored her fashion choices and took her keys, going out the door in pyjamas and boots. She had only walked down two stories before she realised the people in this building were actually _decent humans_. Shaking the rude, obnoxious and, of course, pompous neighbours she used to have in Boston out of her head, she stopped at that floor’s apartment door.

Emma reconsidered her brand new plan right before she knocked, though. It was two in the morning. Who in Storybrooke besides _her_ would be awake at two in the goddamn morning? It was like a fairy tale-ish town, where everyone seemed to be made of marshmallows and bikes rides in a meadow and smiles. Emma had shared a loft with Mary Margaret for long enough to observe how peaceful and ideal life in Quaint Maine Resort could be. She bet they slept in clouds and bathed in honey, or something.

She remembered a kindly old lady lived a floor up, but couldn’t for her life recall who lived right on the other side of that very door in front of her.

It was a blackout. Desperate measures.

Softly at first, and then more consistently, she rapped her fingers on the wooden door, studying the cracked green paint on it to pass time as whoever lived there took _forever_ to answer.

She didn’t even hear the person’s paces on the other side, and, when the door opened, it was like a wave of warmth hit Emma on the face. Not because it was particularly warm inside, but the man who answered it made her blush the minute her eyes struck his candlelit figure. She had never seen him before?

She didn’t know why her brain had turned into an actual question mark, but his blue eyes and raven hair did stuff to her stomach she’d rather _not_ think about. Blinking a few times, she schooled her features, mustering every bail bondsperson skill she could possibly remember and blocking out what she truly felt like the closed-off pro she was.

“I’m sorry to bother,” she began politely, and cringed at how breathless she sounded for a second. Clenching her jaw and recomposing, she continued, “but my friend- roommate, actually: her name is Mary Margaret? From a few floors up.”

“Aye, the teacher.” He rested his hand on the doorframe, leaning on it, and Emma did her best to step back a bit without giving too much of her nerves away. _God, it’s been a while._

“That’s the one. So, she doesn’t have any flashlights or candles; and I couldn’t really sleep in this cold,” she lied. He seemed to catch that pretty quickly, an eyebrow shooting up as a corner of his mouth stretched. “So I was wondering if you had anything that could help me out?”

“It seems the trope for these kind of meetings is asking for _sugar_ , love, not candles,” he purred out, and apparently went from wary to flirty in record time.

She blinked in awe of his boldness - and the tone of his voice; honestly, _what the hell_ \- and furrowed her brows. “Excuse me?”

“Not to be too forward or anything, of course, but it is rather convenient that you chose to show up on my doorstep in your pyjamas in the middle of the night.” She now couldn’t believe him, that glazed-over image of him she had in her head for a couple of seconds roughening around the edges as he continued to reveal himself as a grown up fuckboy.

“There’s a blackout - I didn’t _choose_ to pop up here.” She crossed her arms, the cold getting to her the longer she stood there.

The tone of her voice seemed to sober up his own antics, and the stranger nodded his head almost sheepishly. “Aye, lass, I apologise. It appears we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over.” He stretched out a hand. “Name’s Killian Jones.”

She was surprised but unimpressed at the same time. “The boat guy?” She didn’t shake it immediately, rather rising her eyebrows alongside her response.

He smiled a bit, as if he’d seen a cute dog pass by. “Aye, ‘ _the boat guy_ ’.” He motioned his head towards his hand, encouraging her to take it, and, with a small roll of her eyes, she did.

“Do you have candles or not, boat guy?” She was getting impatient, probably because some lunatic had left the small windows in the hallway open and the chilly gusts of wind were almost making her teeth chatter.

“I’ve got candles, but first, you should tell me your name, innit? Good form and all,” he added, slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 _Wow_. “Emma.” She managed to pour a mix of coolness and dryness into that single word, but she let a bit of sympathy out too as a subconscious way to speed up things, making him think she was _fine_ with whatever all of that was.

“Hop aboard, Emma,” he joked, and she let a smile slip out when he turned around, closing the door behind her.

She didn’t know why she was surprised to notice the space was similar to hers and Mary Margaret’s place. It was as rustically furnished as the latter too, just in a different style. His apartment was a bit darker, wooden floors and furnishings contrasting with the white walls, but complimenting the dark exposed bricks on one of them. The candlelight made everything look more somber, the warm glow flickering against the surfaces and making the shadows dance.

While she looked around, Killian Jones was pacing around the place, grabbing multiple candles - all of them lit, which made Emma wary of how many he would try to carry in each hand - and talking.

“Careful not to trip over anything, love, the shadows can be quite menacing in the middle of a night such as this. It’s one of those hours we wish we had a fireplace to warm up the ambiance - quite literally,” he chuckled, “but I think the candles do a decent enough work if you’re properly _protected_ ,” he gestured as best as he could to his own sweater. “Why didn’t miss Mary Margaret Blanchard come down to ask for the candles? She’s usually the one to converse with the other tenants of this building.”

“She’s staying over at her boyfriend’s place tonight, conveniently,” she poured as much frustration as she could without sounding genuinely upset into the phrase, distracting herself with the flame of a very specific candle. _I know this_... “Did you buy this one on Miner’s Day?”

He grinned, finally stopping at her side with three candles in his hands. “Indeed. Same as these ones.”

“You bought _four_ candles?” She couldn’t help but sound a little shocked.

“I like to help out.”

She was surprised. He’d come off as teasing and overbearing at first, and now here he was, all light looks and soft voices and ‘ _I like to help out_ ’. Who was this guy?

She could only hum in response.

“Would you like a drink, love? On the house.”

“It’s two a.m..”

“I never specified an _alcoholic_ beverage, Swan, I meant something lighter,” he tilted his head, placing the candles carefully on the kitchen counter and silently inviting her onto one of the stools.

 _Swan_. She never told him her last name. _What the hell?_

“How do you know my last name?” She controlled her voice not to sound too scandalised, and was glad to hear a calm statement coming out of her mouth.

“You’re the sheriff, lass, it isn’t classified material,” he deadpanned, ignoring the fact she never answered his question and opening the fridge to prepare something. “I also know you came into town almost a year ago.” He had poured milk into a small pan. “And that you know your _sheriffing_.” Emma wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing anymore, his walking around the kitchen making her neck hurt if she followed his movements. Every bit of her attention went into that lilting accented voice detailing his knowledge of her. Which was creepy, sure, but she couldn’t help but feel _entranced_ by it. “You sort of share a child with the mayor of this town.” Henry sprang into her mind and she was for once glad Regina probably had her own power generator at home or something like that, her privileges as mayor probably exceeding the usual, as always. “You wear a red leather jacket more often than any other article of clothing.” _You need to walk around protected_ , she thought. It was her armour. “And that you like a good cup of hot cocoa with whipped cream on top, with cinnamon.” He punctuated the last statement with a flicker of his wrist over the two mugs that were suddenly right in front of her.

Wait. Had he just made... “Hot cocoa?” She was officially impressed now. “Seriously?”

“Aye, love. Enjoy.”

“And how do I know you didn’t, I don’t know, poison this somehow?,” she asked, not really caring all that much and taking a sip way before he could reply.

He smiled. “Because if I were planning on killing you, I would have already.”

“Point taken.” She was warming up to him. She was _actually_ warming up to him.

“So, Emma, what do you say we take advantage of this sleepless night for the both of us and chatter a bit?,” he proposed, an eyebrow raised and a surprisingly inviting look in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

It was five in the morning and Emma was spread out on an armchair, feet up on the coffee table well into her third hot cocoa, feeling buzzed for some reason, as if the warmth and the pleasant conversation had somehow made her tipsy.

Yes. _Pleasant_ conversation. Killian Jones did indeed have a bit of a flirting problem, but once Emma got past the front lines of his coy looks that contrasted his shameless speech, that whole thing of blunt statements and gallant invitations, coated by flourishing peacocking, didn’t really faze her at all. They shared an interest for Star Wars movies, her having watched them since she was a kid and him only having seen them a year ago. They were almost equally fond of drinking, and both found comfort in the ocean.

“I only like watching it though,” she explained to him, “since I’ve never properly gotten into a boat before.”

He then choked on something. “You’ve _never_ been on a boat before?”

“Don’t act so butthurt about it, I used to work full time in Boston.”

“That’s it, I’m taking you on a boat trip.” He sat up from his lying position on his couch, resting his mug on the coffee table and acting absolutely shocked yet firm.

“ _What_?” She couldn’t help but chuckle. What was happening to her?

“No- you don’t get a say in this until you’ve been on a boat.”

“Oh, okay, hoppin’ onto a boat with a stranger mid-winter in Maine.” She wanted it to sound as mocking as possible, but his smile dropped.

“Swan, I think we can both agree we are not strangers to one another. Not anymore.” He was right, and she didn’t want to admit it because she was _finally_ a bit drowsy and because she still was her usual stubborn self. “Besides, I was about to ask you out on a proper date before you plopped those dirty boots on my coffee table,” he playfully glared at her feet.

It caught her attention.

“What?”

“It’s a coffee table, Swan, people put _plates of food_ on it someti-“

“No, not that.”

“Oh, the date? I’m still considering it,” he raised his left eyebrow, leaning back and crossing his arms, analysing her face. Cocky.

“ _You’re_ considering it?”

“Actually, love, not anymore.” She waited for him to continue. “What do you say for good old breakfast at Granny’s in... five hours? It _is_ Saturday.”

She considered it for a moment. And then she _considered_ it.

 

* * *

 

“ _Emma_.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

Emma looked up from the nail from which she’d been peeling the polish, at Mary Margaret, and was taken aback by the raised eyebrow and the most _intense_ inquisitive look the pixie haired had ever directed at her.

“Now answer me, loud and clear.” Emma felt like a child caught red handed while stealing cookies from the kitchen. “Who was that man you were having breakfast with this morning?”

“No one, _mom_ , just a friend.”

“A friend?,” the curious little bird inside her friend won the battle against intimidation and she sat down next to Emma, grinning excitingly. “What _friend_?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know him,” Emma diverts, and Mary Margaret purses her lips.

“What’s his name?”

“Killian.”

“ _Jones_?”

“I knew you knew him.”

“I don’t, actually, but I’ve heard his name here and there. And, honestly, how many Killians do you know?”

She had a point. _Damn_.

“So how was it?” Mary Margaret had completely given up on her previous tactic, and Emma could just see the nagging she would have to endure for at least a week.

“How was what?”

“ _Emma_.”

Emma sighed. Maybe she could use a break. A break from being closed off, reserved, a _heinous bitch_. She could be polite to people, but as soon as they stepped over the line of acquaintance, she had this habit of shutting everyone out. Maybe she just needed _one_ person inside her walls.

 _Nah_.

“Mary Margaret, why are you being so pushy about this?”

“It’s not being pushy, it’s being... _interested_.” Her friend didn’t look the least bit guilty, but she sobered up from her glee, a small wrinkle between her brows. “Eventually, Emma, you’re gonna need to open up your heart. Because those walls you put around it- _I know_ you’re just trying to protect yourself. But they keep as much good stuff out as the bad. And, you know, sometimes, the bad stuff you let in are worth it.”

She could only sigh. “Of course _you_ say that, with your perfect relationship with your perfect boyfriend-“

“All of which only came to me after a lot of struggle.” _Oh, yeah._ Emma remembered the whole waking up from a coma thing David had to go through, and the entire wife he didn’t really love anymore issue Mary Margaret had suddenly found herself in. She supposed her friend was right.

Sighing again, she reconsidered it. She needed _someone_. _That someone could be that devilishly handsome sailor you bonded with a few hours ago_ , a little voice said in the back of her head. She shut it out, blinking up at Mary Margaret and fighting against everything that kept her behind those walls. She doesn’t have to break them down, she can just climb over it momentarily to converse with someone she keeps refusing to let inside.

Noticing her struggle to begin, her friend - bless her, maybe it was a good idea after all - gave her a helping hand. “How did you guys meet?”

“Last night, actually, during the blackout.”

“There was a blackout?,” she asked, taken aback.

“How did you sleep in that cold?,” Emma inquired, confused.

“David has a fireplace, we fell asleep right in front of it.” She was blushing. Emma didn’t want to know.

“Of course he does.” It wasn’t fair to Mary Margaret, but damn her for her perfect life. “And you don’t have any candles- actually, what’s that about? Where are all your candles?”

The brunette tilted her head. “Under my bed. In a box.”

So she _did_ have candles. It appeared her trip downstairs was for absolutely nothing after all. _Not for nothing._

“Right. Anyway, I couldn’t remember who lived a couple of floors down, so I knocked and there he was.”

“He lives here?”

“Yeah, he knew who you were.”

“That is... suspicious.”

“He also seemed to know a lot about me too...” Emma remembered his extreme level of detail when saying what he knew about her, too high for a complete stranger. “And he offered me hot cocoa and we just... talked? I guess? It was almost six when I came home.”

 _Home_. She always surprised herself when she let out that specific word.

Mary Margaret gave it no thought, grinning like a cheshire cat as if she were watching a romantic comedy roll out right in front of her eyes. “ _And_...?”

“And he kind of asked me out and I said yes and that was what you saw this morning.”

Her friend uttered a sound she couldn’t describe, but she was suddenly distracted by the memory of that morning.

She’d been a few minutes late, arriving at Granny’s after him. He’d ordered two hot cocoas with cinnamon - as if she hadn’t had too many of those the previous night - and had been looking out the window next to the booth, missing her arrival, thus jumping when she slid into her seat.

“Good morning, love,” he’d greeted, pushing one of the steaming mugs in front of him towards her. She had replied equally, and he’d leaned back. “Honestly, I’m surprised you came.”

“Why is that?” She’d taken a sip and refrained from groaning, the heat of the drink comforting as it went down her throat, settling a warm feeling in her chest that spread to the tip of her fingers.

“You’re sort of an open book,” he’d replied, smugness more than clear in his smirk.

“Huh,” she had smiled a bit, almost absent-mindedly. “Tell me more.”

He then had gone on about how he could _just_ read her, her walls and all her act of toughness, when on the inside, she was just as much of a ‘ _hopeless romantic_ ’ as he was. She couldn’t help but think it was funny. Endearing at most.

She couldn’t think like that. Not yet. If there was a yet, that is. There was nothing wrong with being _cautious_ , right?

She had to admit though, it had been good. _Really_ good. Surprisingly good. Should it have been that surprising, though? She should have expected it, given how easy their mid-night conversations had been a few hours prior.

After forty minutes of delaying the end of it, breakfast had been ceased with an invitation for a walk by the docks. He insisted. _Too romantic_.

“Can’t see why not,” she heard herself say, and wasn’t entirely regretful of it when she saw the genuine smile on his face.

They had walked and they had talked some more and, whenever his hand brushed hers, she felt like she was a teenager all over again, just... more complicated. Her heart _did_ race, and, in the back of her head, she _could_ feel a strange feeling of wanting him to take it, but then her entire brain would light up and scream against that idea. She ended up stuffing her hands in her pockets to avoid any more internal conflict. She was getting sick of those.

He had shown her his boat, and invited her to climb aboard, but she’d refused saying she’d rather not take the risk of falling out of it.

“Swan, it’s a _boat_ , not a raft,” he’d rationalised.

“Still.”

He’d rolled his eyes and given up on asking again. She liked how he rolled his eyes. He’d slipped on a patch of ice on the cement floor as they resumed their walk, almost falling face first on the ground, but had managed to regain his balance with a string of curses on his tongue and a firm grip on her shoulder. He’d quickly let go of her, but not before a polite apology and a small tightening of his grasp to point his line.

He’d then revealed to her power had gone back right after she had arrived the previous night.

“Oh my god,” she suddenly realised, halting her steps once again, “you turned on the stove. _How_ did I not notice that before?”

“And you call yourself observant.”

“I _am_ observant.”

“And I’m quite perceptive,” he stepped closer to her, and all thoughts of ‘ _maybe he’ll just be a good friend_ ’ vanished from her head, replaced by the good old ‘ _I wonder how he kisses_ ’. _Whoa_. “And I can hear your thoughts, love.”

“Oh, can you?” She’d wanted to make it sound as if she didn’t believe him, but the whisper that had instead come out sounded an awful lot like a genuine question.

“Aye,” he had stated softly, his eyes glancing down to...

 _Oooookay_. She was way off her own limits. _Get a grip_.

“I doubt that,” she had finally said, firmly, after she’d recomposed herself, taking an exceedingly large step back and crossing her arms.

He had only chuckled.

“I’m gonna go now,” she’d then announced, trying to sound less freaked out than she actually was. “Work to do, bills to pay.”

“It’s Saturday,” he had reasoned, tilting his stupid head, but staying where he was just as she stepped back.

“ _Bye_ ,” she’d said over her shoulder when she had fully turned around, ignoring his good point entirely.

“When can I see you again?,” she’d heard, and had been glad he couldn’t see her face when she smiled to herself.

“It’s a small town,” she’d gestured around her. “It’s not hard.”

She’d heard him laugh and decided to wait until she got to the loft to fully freak out at how _good_  she felt that morning. It was like the warmth from that first sip of cocoa had never truly disappeared, lingering in her chest and making her feel bubbly. She hadn’t felt that in a really long time.

 

* * *

 

On Monday, she’d entered her office at the sheriff station to the sight of a small wicker basket on her desk. With a wrinkle on her brow, she stepped closer slowly, remembering the last time someone gave her a present for the station ( _damn Sidney Glass_ ), and her breath hitched when she saw the three bear claws inside.

She could also see the exposed corner of a note, but it took her half a bear claw to actually read it.

_Thought you might like a treat. You did tell me how much you love them._

_\- Killian_

_Wow_. Now she was definitely impressed. _What a journey_.

She couldn’t quite believe him, though. He’d gone through the trouble of buying her bear claws after she walked out on him after a perfectly okay morning together.

She couldn’t say she wasn’t affected by that though. Everywhere she’d gone the whole weekend, she’d looked around, attentive, checking her surroundings as if to make sure he wasn’t there. Because he said he’d seen her around. But she had never seen him before in her life. And they were _neighbours_.

After not seeing him the whole day on Sunday, she never could have seen this coming. This basket, this food, this note. This _Killian_.

She ate all the bear claws before her shift at the station ended, and she remembered how she and David needed more people around the place. She hated paperwork, and doing it when all she could see in front of her were blue eyes and a mop of dark hair proved to be quite the challenge.

Where had he said he worked at? When he wasn’t at the docks, of course.

Remembering it quickly, she took her jacket and beanie and headed out to her bug, praying the heater would work that night. She drove to her destination in a cool car, and rushed inside as soon as it agreed to shut down. Her bug was old, but it was _hers_ before anything she now possessed.

As soon as she stepped into The Rabbit Hole, she remembered why she didn’t go there more often. It was the most _big-city_ establishment in Storybrooke, and the environment reminded Emma of Boston and all the bad cases. She preferred enduring Granny’s pursed lips when she asked for a shot or two on a rough night.

Finding herself a seat on the bar, she laid her jacket on her lap and waited for a bartender - _the_ bartender - to notice her.

For once, she was happy uniforms existed. The bar’s signature black tee made Killian even hotter than she remembered: in that ridiculously large navy sweater.

She was pleased when it took him less than a minute to notice her, and even more when he stared at her for a few seconds before actually sauntering over, a cloth thrown over his shoulder and a smirk she had quickly grown fonder of on his lips.

“Good evening, milady,” he greeted charmingly, leaning on the bar with his hands placed right next to hers.

“Hi. A whiskey. On the rocks, please.” She flashed him her own little smirk, one she’d learned to master over the years as a bail bondsperson - except this one was _bordering_ genuine.

He raised an eyebrow at her for a moment before preparing her drink. “Not looking forward to a particularly buzzed feeling tonight, love?”

“It is a school night,” she answered, taking her glass and raising it slightly towards him before taking a drink.

“Aye,” he replied, looking around to check if any other patrons demanded attention. When none were found, he looked back at her, seeming more relaxed and like the guy she’d spent a few hours with a couple days ago. “So, how was your sweet tooth today? Indulged?”

She didn’t quite give him the satisfaction of an answer just yet. “How did you even get those bear claws into the station?”

“I know a guy,” he tilted his head, attempting to sound mysterious, but Emma knew his stuff. Better than she should.

“You dragged Mary Margaret into this, didn’t you?”

Killian narrowed his eyes at her, and she smiled smugly. “Alright, the teacher did know where you kept the keys. However, aware of the risks of breaking and entering, she just bribed David into doing it.”

Bribed. _I hate those two._

“So, now that your mission is complete, what’s the next step?,” she asked him, using the drink in her hand as a metaphorical shield.

“My mission?” He sounded excited, as if he’d waited for this. Maybe he had. Maybe _she_ had.

“I’m intrigued. What are you going to do next?” She was trying to sound as confident as she possibly could; but this wasn’t an act, it wasn’t fake, it was real and that made it all different. Her heart was beating faster, adrenaline slowly flowing through her veins as if it were building up for a great _boom_ , her brain was scrambled but it was still clear.

She liked this guy. And Mary Margaret might have finally gotten into her head.

_Eventually, Emma, you’re gonna need to open up your heart._

Maybe her friend was right. Maybe she needed one single leap of faith. She’s not really the _faith_ kind of person; and maybe that’s why it’s always been hard.

Her drive her had been short, but it was cold and quiet enough for everything to fall into place. She knew what she wanted, and she was trying as hard as she could to fight against her natural instinct to run, placing her feet on the metal bar under the counter, grounding herself. _I’m staying. For once_.

When he smiled at her, she knew she’d signed up for something. When he asked her out on another date that night, she knew she’d started something. When the date ended with a goodnight kiss right outside the loft, she knew it was something good.

And for once, life didn’t prove her wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d also like to shamelessly promote my multi chapter AU fic - The New One pls check it out ily - because I’m still really proud of it and it would mean the world to me if my attention seeking wishes could be fulfilled. I just like still receiving notifications from this website, even after almost two years of not even logging in. 
> 
> And also thanks to everyone, from the fighters who stuck with this thing since the beginning and the new arrivals that didn’t cower at the sight of weird English and strange phrasing. You’re the absolute best.


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